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102

ODE. TO FREDERICK, PRINCE OF WALES'S BIRTH-DAY

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1739. By EARL NUGENT.

I

Fitly to hail this happy day,
Freedom demands a festal lay,
And wakes the silent string;
The gen'rous Muse, untaught to fear,
Inspires what Britain's Prince should hear,
And Britain's bards should sing.

II

Accurs'd the wretches ever be,
And foes to sacred Liberty,
Who impious dare presume
To sooth his ear with such a strain,
As better fits the cringing train,
The slaves of France or Rome.

III

Far other speaks the voice of truth,
O! may it warn thee, Royal Youth!
To fly base flattery's lore.
The syren sings; who listen, die;
Behold yon wreck with cautious eye!
Nor trust the faithless shore!

IV

And when beneath thy counsel'd reign,
Britain shall plow the subject main,
Compleat Heaven's great design!
103

Restrain thy powers with binding laws!
And grateful own the glorious cause,
That rais'd thy scepter'd line!

V

So shalt thou earn unequal fame,
From blessings deathless as thy name,
By latest time enjoy'd;
Whilst gifts from arbitrary sway,
Shine the vain pageants of a day,
Neglected and destroy'd.

VI

Thy throne shall thus unshaken stand;
Its ample base, a prosperous land;
Thy strength, a nation's might;
And thus thy future race shall be
Safe in a bless'd necessity,
Guided and rul'd by right.

VII

Let priests an hallow'd bondage preach!
Let school men earth-born godhead teach!
Let loyal madmen rave!
Wise nature feels, she mocks their rules;
And laws oppress'd, from diff'rent schools,
Unite the free and brave.

VIII

So form'd, now shines the patriot band,
The guardians of a threaten'd land,
Of Britain and her crown.
May such adorn each future age,
Equal to stem wild faction's rage,
Or pull a tyrant down!

IX

Genius of Freedom, and of Peace!
Bid rapine and contention cease!
Protect what you bestow'd!
Well may a burden'd realm complain,
If, rescued from the galling chain,
She sinks beneath her load.
104

AN ODE TO MANKIND.

Address'd to the PRINCE

By the Same.

INTRODUCTION to the PRINCE.

Nor me the glories of thy birth engage,
With royal names to swell my pompous page:
Nor meaner views allure, in soothing lays
To court thy favour with officious praise.
Yet praise it is, thus to address thine ear
In strains no slave dare sing, no tyrant hear;
While warm for Britain's rights and nature's laws,
I call forth Britain's hope in freedom's cause:
Assert an empire which to all belongs,
And vindicate a world's long suffer'd wrongs.
These saving truths import thee most to know,
The links that tie the mighty to the low;
What now, our fellow-subject, is your due,
And, when our lord, shall be a debt on you.
O! may'st thou to the throne such maxims bring;
And feel the free-man while thou reign'st the king.
Far hence the tribe, whose servile arts delude,
And teach the great to spurn the multitude.
Are those unworthy of the royal heir,
Who claim the future monarch's duteous care?
Still may thy thoughts the godlike task pursue,
And to the many ne'er prefer the few!
Still mayst thou fly thy fortune's specious friends,
Who deal forth sov'reign grace to private ends;
In narrow streams divert the copious tide,
Exalt one sect and damn the world beside:
While with false lights directing partial rule,
The lord of nations falls a party's tool.
Such there have been—and such, in truth's despite,
Disgrace'd the cause of liberty and right.
But thou shalt rise superior to their arts,
And fix thy empire in a people's hearts.
105

Nor hence may faction boast her favour'd claim,
Where selfish passions borrow virtue's name:
Free government alone preserves the free,
And righteous rule is gen'ral liberty;
Their guiding law is freedom's native voice,
The public good defin'd by public choice;
And justly should the bold offenders fall,
Who dare invade the sov'reign rights of all;
A king who proudly makes these claims his own,
Or they whose rage would shake a lawful throne.
From truths like these proceeds a right divine,
And may the pow'r that rais'd, preserve thy scepter'd line.

TO MANKIND: AN ODE.

I

Is there, or do the schoolmen dream?
Is there on earth a pow'r supreme,
The delegate of heav'n,
To whom an uncontroul'd command,
In every realm o'er sea and land,
By special grace is giv'n?

II

Then say, what signs this god proclaim?
Dwells he amidst the diamond's flame,
A throne his hallow'd shrine?
The borrow'd pomp, the arm'd array,
Want, fear, and impotence betray:
Strange proofs of pow'r divine!

III

If service due from human kind,
To men in slothful ease reclin'd,
Can form a sov'reign's claim:
Hail monarchs! ye, whom heav'n ordains,
Our toils unshar'd, to share our gains,
Ye ideots, blind and lame!
106

IV

Superior virtue, wisdom, might,
Create and mark the ruler's right,
So reason must conclude:
Then thine it is, to whom belong
The wise, the virtuous, and the strong,
Thrice sacred multitude!

V

In thee, vast ALL! are these contain'd,
For thee are those, thy parts ordain'd,
So nature's systems roll:
The scepter's thine if such there be;
If none there is, then thou art free,
Great monarch! mighty whole!

VI

Let the proud tyrant rest his cause
On faith, prescription, force or laws,
An host's or senate's voice!
His voice affirms thy stronger due,
Who for the many made the few,
And gave the species choice.

VII

Unsanctify'd by thy command,
Unown'd by thee, the scepter'd hand
The trembling slave may bind.
But loose from nature's moral ties,
The oath by force impos'd belies
The unassenting mind.

VIII

Thy will's thy rule, thy good its end;
You punish only to defend
What parent nature gave:
And he who dares her gifts invade,
By nature's oldest law is made
Thy victim or thy slave.
107

IX

Thus reason founds the just decree
On universal liberty,
Not private rights resign'd:
Through various nature's wide extent,
No private beings e'er were meant
To hurt the gen'ral kind.

X

Thee justice guides, thee right maintains,
Th' oppressor's wrongs, the pilr'rer's gains,
Thy injur'd weal impair.
Thy warmest passions soon subside,
Nor partial envy, hate, nor pride,
Thy temper'd counsels share.

XI

Each instance of thy vengeful rage,
Collected from each clime and age,
Though malice swell the sum,
Would seem a spotless scanty scroll,
Compar'd with Marius' bloody roll,
Or Sylla's hippodrome.

XII

But thine has been imputed blame,
Th' unworthy few assume thy name,
The rabble weak and loud;
Or those who on thy ruins feast,
The lord, the lawyer and the priest;
A more ignoble crowd.

XIII

Avails it thee, if one devours,
Or lesser spoilers share his pow'rs,
While both thy claim oppose?
Monsters who wore thy sully'd crown,
Tyrants who pull'd those monsters down,
Alike to thee were foes.
108

XIV

Far other shone fair Freedom's hand,
Far other was th' immortal stand,
When Hampden fought for thee:
They snatch'd from rapine's gripe thy spoils,
The fruits and prize of glorious toils,
Of arts and industry.

XV

On thee yet foams the preacher's rage,
On thee fierce frowns th' historian's page
A false apostate train:
Tears stream adown the martyr's tomb;
Unpity'd in their harder doom,
Thy thousands strow the plain.

XVI

These had no charms to please the sense,
No graceful port, no eloquence,
To win the Muse's throng:
Unknown, unsung, unmark'd they lie;
But Caesar's fate o'ercasts the sky,
And Nature mourns his wrong.

XVII

Thy foes, a frontless band, invade;
Thy friends afford a timid aid,
And yield up half thy right.
Ev'n Locke beams forth a mingled ray,
Afraid to pour the flood of day
On man's too feeble sight.

XVIII

Hence are the motley systems fram'd,
Of right transfer'd, of pow'r reclaim'd;
Distinctions weak and vain.
Wise nature mocks th' wrangling herd;
For unreclaim'd, and untransfer'd,
Her pow'rs and rights remain.
109

XIX

While law the royal agent moves,
The instrument thy choice approves,
We bow through him to you.
But change, or cease th' inspiring choice,
The sov'reign sinks a private voice,
Alike in one, or few!

XX

Shall then the wretch, whose dastard heart
Shrinks at a tyrant's nobler part,
And only dares betray;
With reptile wiles, alas! prevail,
Where force, and rage, and priest-craft fail,
To pilfer pow'r away?

XXI

O! shall the bought, and buying tribe,
The slaves who take, and deal the bribe,
A people's claims enjoy!
So Indian murd'rers hope to gain
The pow'rs and virtues of the slain,
Of wretches they destroy.

XXII

“Avert it, heav'n! you love the brave,
“You hate the treach'rous, willing slave,
“The self-devoted head.
“Nor shall an hireling's voice convey
“That sacred prize to lawless sway,
“For which a nation bled.”

XXIII

Vain pray'r, the coward's weak resource!
Directing reason, active force,
Propitious heaven bestows.
But ne'er shall flame the thund'ring sky,
To aid the trembling herd that fly
Before their weaker foes.
110

XXIV

In names there dwell no magic charms,
The British virtues, British arms
Unloos'd our fathers' band:
Say, Greece and Rome! if these should fail,
What names, what ancestors avail,
To save a sinking land?

XXV

Far, far from us such ills shall be,
Mankind shall boast one nation free,
One monarch truly great:
Whose title speaks a people's choice,
Whose sovereign will a people's voice,
Whose strength a prosp'rous state.

AN ODE TO WILLIAM PULTENEY, Esq.

By THE SAME.

I

Remote from liberty and truth,
By fortune's crime, my early youth
Drank error's poison'd springs.
Taught by dark creeds and mystic law,
Wrapt up in reverential awe,
I bow'd to priests and kings.

II

Soon reason dawn'd, with troubled fight
I caught the glimpse of painful light,
Afflicted and afraid,
Too weak it shone to mark my way,
Enough to tempt my steps to stray
Along the dubious shade.
111

III

Restless I roam'd, when from afar
Lo, Hooker shines! the friendly star
Sends forth a steady ray.
Thus cheer'd, and eager to pursue,
I mount, 'Till glorious to my view,
Locke spreads the realms of day.

IV

Now warm'd with noble Sidney's page,
I pant with all the patriot's rage;
Now wrapt in Plato's dream,
With More and Harrington around
I tread fair Freedom's magic ground,
And trace the flatt'ring scheme.

V

But soon the beauteous vision flies;
And hideous spectres now arise,
Corruption's direful train:
The partial judge perverting laws,
The priest forsaking virtue's cause,
And senates slaves to gain.

VI

Vainly the pious artist's toil
Would rear to heaven a mortal pile,
On some immortal plan;
Within a sure, though varying date,
Confin'd, alas! is every state
Of empire and of man.

VII

What though the good, the brave, the wise,
With adverse force undaunted rise,
To break th' eternal doom!
Though Cato liv'd, though Tully spoke,
Though Brutus dealt the godlike stroke,
Yet perish'd fated Rome.
112

VIII

To swell some future tyrant's pride,
Good Fleury pours the golden tide
On Gallia's smiling shores;
Once more her fields shall thirst in vain
For wholsome streams of honest gain,
While rapine wastes her stores.

IX

Yet glorious is the great design,
And such, O Pultney! such is thine
To prop a nation's frame.
If crush'd beneath the sacred weight
The ruins of a falling state
Shall tell the patriot's name.

FAITH.

A POEM.

116

ARGUMENT.

God from the simple Law of Nature produces infinite Variety. The Exertion of Power equal in the Production of the smallest and greatest Beings in the various Classes of Creation. The most minute Alteration in the System of the Universe would subvert the whole; from Line 1 to 18. All Effects foreseen by God from Eternity, to Line 32. Phenomena, seemingly irregular, all directed by certain Rules, to Line 43. There are Evils necessarily arising from the Nature of Things, in the physical and moral Worlds. These are compensated by superior Benefits with which they are connected, to Line 62. The virtuous happy here or in a future State. Prayer grateful to God, to Line 82. The Law of Mercy consistent with the Law of Nature. Both co-operate in attaining the Ends proposed by God from all Eternity, to Line 106. The Will of God, although immutable, is free, his Decrees being always present, to 120. Man's Choice foreseen but not compell'd, to 124. Certain differing Opinions equally false, to 132. Infidelity and Credulity equally erroneous. Miracles afford no Argument in favour of legendary Tales, to 152. The Will of God is the efficient Cause of all Things, to 170. Worlds of Spirit, to 176. Influence of Soul upon Body acting by an Impulse different from the Laws of Motion, to 192. The known Effects of such Impulse render credible certain Miracles and Mysteries delivered to us by divine Authority, to 216. Absurdities of Materialism, to 230. Desire of Fame after Death a Proof of future Existence, to 256. The Argument used by Epicureans against Providence strengthened by the Doctrine of Materialism, to 288. Their Argument best answered by the Doctrine of a Trinity, to 318. Other Circumstances which inforce the Truth of that Doctrine, to 346. Mahomet and Mahometism compared with Christ and Christianity, to 366. Before Revelation, natural Sense led Men into fewer gross Errors respecting a Divinity, than Learning did many Philosophers, to 374. The Worship of God in his Works, or in Idols, common to the most civilized and savage Nations, proves the Idea of a Supreme Power impressed on the Mind of Man, while the religious Tenets of both were equally absurd, to 408. Description of Fame, to 426. Her Influence upon Cato, Brutus and Socrates, to 468. All Virtues enjoined by the revealed Will of God, to 478. The Influence of revealed Religion upon the Distresses of Man, to 502. The Religion of Nature, moral Instinct, and human Laws not sufficient without reveal'd Religion, to 562. Reason not sufficient without Faith, to 614. Deism inconsistent with itself, to 632. Address to the Deity, to 650. Apostrophe to the King, to 690.


Ruling Pow'r! eternal Mind!
Uncreated, unconfin'd,
Who, from Nature's simple Law,
Dost her various Myriads draw;
Thou! omnipotent in all,
Equal in the Great and Small,
Where thy rising Works extend,
Wide as Space which knows no End,
From the Mote which unseen plays,
To where Suns unnumber'd blaze;
With the all-prevading Soul
Poises, moves, connects the whole:
In the Chain one Link derang'd,
In the Work one Movement chang'd,
In the Scale one Atom lost,
World would sink in Chaos tost.
But secure, Thy potent Hand
Executes what Prescience plan'd,
What was, is, or e'er shall be
Viewing thro' Eternity.
Could an unforeseen Event
Scenes, unknown before, present,
Thou, like Man, become more wise,
Would'st thro' Time in Knowledge rise,
Rais'd, at ev'ry future Date,
From thy still imperfect State.
Yet, in each advanc'd Degree,
Ill th' improving Deity
Would support th' Omniscient's Claim,
From Eternity the same;
Ill Effects, unthought of, tend
To insure Creation's End.
118

Urg'd by one unvarying Force,
Seasons tread their wonted Course;
While in Nature's stated Turn,
Winters chill, and Summers burn.
Vagrant Winds, the Compass round
Shift, and seem by Rules unbound;
Yet Thou guidest their Career,
Sure as rolls the circling Year:
Nor in wide Creation's Range,
Blindfold Chance or fickle Change
Ever enter'd: fertile Lands
Thirst for Show'rs that glut the Sands;
Nor may starving Virtue taste
What the lavish Vices waste,
All foreknown, no partial Ill
Frustrates the Creator's Will.
Ills there are, in vain deny'd
By the subtle Stoick's Pride;
Such as Nature must produce,
Purchasing superior Use:
Here would Suns benignant shine,
They must scorch beneath the Line:
Clouds that drop the kindly Show'r,
Must the wasting Torrent pour.
Nor to Earth alone confin'd,
Ills disgrace the nobler Mind,
Rank Desires, foul Passions stain:
Should resistless Force restrain,
Soon would Brute-degraded Man
Humble mourn thy alter'd Plan.
In omniscient Justice sure,
Virtue rests of Bliss secure;
Large the Portion here assign'd
To the conscious, spotless Mind,
While unmerited Distress
Points to future Happiness:
One, thus blameless doom'd to fall,
Proves Futurity to all.
Other Proofs, alas! arise:
Prosp'rous Guilt those Proofs supplies.
Tho' awhile in Nature's Scale
Virtues sink and Crimes prevail,
119

Yet not lost in empty Air
Vainly floats the suppliant Pray'r:
Grateful shall the Incense rise,
Wafting Fragrance to the Skies;
And eternal Bliss repay
The short suff'rings of a Day.
Let not Villains boast their Gains,
While unclos'd th' Account remains!
But would'st Thou, in Mercy shown,
Deign the righteous Cause to own;
Or from Guilt's repentant Eye
Wipe all other Sorrows dry,
Nature's Laws can never force
Mercy from her destin'd Course;
Both are thine—to stir the Wave,
Still, or turn its Rage, and save
Wretches, who thy Hand adore
Slighted or unknown before.
Thus the Kindred-Systems rang'd
Mutual act, their Laws unchang'd;
Tho' deep-veil'd thy form'd Design
Dwells in Mystery divine;
Nor can bounded Reason find
How their various Pow'rs combin'd,
All directed to one End,
Can alternate Succour lend,
While according Parts agree
In Caelestial Harmony.
Howe'er vary'd each Event,
All conform to thy Intent,
To whate'er thy ruling Pow'r
Will'd before th' appointed Hour.
Man thro' Life's inconstant Range,
Proves his Liberty by Change;
But that cogent Proof betrays
Error's inconsistent Maze.
While th' Almighty Hand fulfills
All that Sovereign Wisdom wills;
While no Power's controuling Voice,
Thwarts his self-directing Choice;
Tho' unalter'd still remains
What th' unerring Mind ordains,
120

Wise Omnipotence is free
In th' immutable Decree,
Ever present, never past,
Never future, first, or last.
In whate'er thou hast ordain'd,
Man ne'er sins by Force constrain'd!
Free his Choice, tho' Heav'n foresee
What that fatal Choice will be;
His, who wrapt in Horror's Gloom,
Reads th' inevitable Doom;
Or who views a Seraph's Throne,
By predestin'd Lot his own;
Or who mocks a saving God,
Spurns his Clemency and Rod:
Impious they, whose Creeds profane
Hold the Works of Virtue vain.
Error's wild Extremes are such,
When too little or too much
Men believe, alike they stray:—
Scepticks in the Noon of Day,
While Credulity's weak Eyes
See the Midnight Sceptre rise.
Nor doth Miracle avail
The low Bigot's idle Tale,
How by Supplication prest
Thou hast chang'd thy high Behest;
Turn'd the Bolt thy Wrath prepares,
From the Head thy Pity spares;
Passions varying each Design,
As strong Love or Hate incline:
Vengeance, Mercy but fulfil
Thy unalter'd ceaceless Will,
Both united in one Plan,
Form'd ere Worlds or Time began;
While Presumption baffled strays
In th' inexplicable Maze.
Could sublimer Reason scan
Matter thro' its endless Plan,
From this humble Planet rise
Far as stretch the spangled Skies,
Piercing thro' all Nature's Laws,
Towards the efficient Cause;
121

Past thy Will should Knowledge strain,
Newton's Lights would Blaze in vain:
Whence on Matter, doom'd to rest
'Till by moving Matter prest,
Does th' imparted Impulse act?
Whence does central Force attrat?
Whence in a projectile Line
Bodies would that Force decline?
While th' opposing Pow'r compounds
Orbs and all their destin'd Rounds;
These deep-search'd by human Skill,
Own no Cause beside thy Will.
All obedient to thy Reign
Works more wond'rous still remain,
Where, unknown to human Sight,
Spreads th' expanded Infinite;
While thy ruling Law controlls
The vast Universe of Souls.
Hence that Spark (whose glimm'ring Ray
Animates our senseless Clay,
Knowing all to Mankind known,
Stranger to itself alone;)
Bids the Face of Pleasure glow,
Sickens the pale Cheek of Woe,
Fires the Weak with Valour's Flame,
Numbs with Fear the Giant's Frame,
Gives our Limbs to move or rest,
By no outward Force imprest;
Bids young Vigour, bounding high,
All Attraction's Pow'r defy,
And, in Frolick's varying Round,
Motion's stated Laws confound;
Rules the Man—unconscious whence
Flows its pow'rful Influence.
Since thus destin'd to obey,
Body owns superior Sway;
To the ruling Spirit chain'd,
Union felt but ne'er explain'd;
Well might thy o'er-ruling Force
Stop the Sun's declining Course,
Bid a chosen People pass
Thro' the Sea's divided Mass:
122

Starting forth at thy Command
Well might Wonders prove thy Hand,
When the Crowd thy Truths receiv'd,
Saw, and what they saw believ'd.
Yet Impiety denies
Miracle and Mysteries;
Mocks the Pow'r which from his Bed
Rais'd to Life the wond'ring Dead,
Scoffs at those who dare proclaim
A Man-God in human Frame,
Join'd in Union undefin'd
To our now ennobled Kind!
In thy Word those Truths we trace,
Treasur'd for the Human Race;
Unimpair'd the Proofs shall last,
Thro' the future, as the past.
If, as impious Teachers say,
Souls are animated Clay;
If, by chemick Pow'r refin'd,
Matter, high-sublim'd to Mind,
Rich with Wisdom, Foresight, Skill,
Chuses, thinks, and moves at will;
A new Essence thus supply'd,
To the native Mass deny'd,
Total Change—such alter'd State
Who produces, must create:
In the wond'rous Work imprest
The Creator shines confest;
Still the Soul retains her Claim,
Pure and animated Flame.
Lo! the Wretch who abject thinks
Man to Brute degraded sinks,
And in mould'ring Earth's decay
Quenches the immortal Ray,
Courting visionary Fame
Pants to eternize his Name;
When no more th' unconscious Ear
Can th' applauding Paean hear,
When no more th' extinguish'd Eye
Sees the Column brave the Sky,
Sacred to a Name alone,
All that liv'd of Man unknown.
123

Heaven's exhaustless Bounty grants
Fit Supplies for all our Wants,
Whether feeding grosser Fires,
Or the Soul's sublime Desires;
Ev'ry Longing of the Mind,
Marks an Object thus assign'd,
In the wide-extended Scope
Of Enjoyment, Wish, or Hope,
'Tho' mistaken Man's Embrace
Catch at Shadows in his Chace:
He who thirsts to live in Praise,
Thro' a Line of endless Days,
Proves a deathless Prize prepar'd
By our mortal Sense unshar'd.
If the great Creator's Plan
Close with Life's contracted Span,
While in quick successive Birth
Myriads swarm to mix the Earth;
If to no sublimer End
Heav'nly Strength and Thought extend,
Why was favour'd Man begot,
Rising but to breathe and rot?
Why employ'd almighty Pow'r
On the Creature of an Hour?
Epicurus in his Sty
Hence would Providence deny,
Deeming Earth unmeet to share
A Creator's Guardian Care.
Yet Almighty Pow'r he own'd
On the highest Heav'n enthron'd,
Of Infinitude possest,
In himself supremely blest.
Thus he reason'd.—“God employ'd
In Perfections self-enjoy'd,
Feels no Motive to create,
Rising from a future State:
What can finite Works present
Worthy the Omnipotent?
Can Creation to his Store
Add one Gift, not his before?
Or th' Imperfect yield Delight
To the Perfect Infinite?
124

Atoms, blindfold in their Dance,
Jumble into Worlds by Chance,
While remote the God-head reigns,
Heedless of our Joys and Pains.”
Wilder'd in phantastick Schemes,
So th' unaided Searcher dreams:
Reason with advent'rous Flight,
Trying Heav'n's unequal Height,
Tir'd and dizzy, from the Sky
Drops into Absurdity.
Faith arise! assert your Claim!
Open Heav'n from whence you came!
Vouch th' eternal Three who shine
One, in Attributes divine!
Say! how the Great Father's Mind
Ere Creation was, design'd
His lov'd Son's unspotted Birth,
Cloth'd in Flesh, exalting Earth;
While with interchang'd Delights,
One creates, and One unites,
Of one Object each possest,
In their mutual Blessings blest.
Say! how all was sanctify'd,
By that Spirit breathing wide,
Who erst in the Prophet's Flame,
Did those mystick Truths proclaim;
And, athwart thick pagan Night,
Pour'd on Souls resistless Light.
In this System pre-ordain'd,
God's high Motives stand explain'd;
When his all-creating Hand
Gave to Man Air, Sea and Land,
Made for him, whose kindred-Claim
Boasts his Heav'n-united Frame.
Tenets with such Wonders fraught,
Far beyond the Reach of Thought,
Link'd with Laws, whose rig'rous Plan
Checks th' aspiring Pride of Man,
Stints the darling Joys of Sense,
Lost in rigid Abstinence,
Points to Paths with Thorns bespread,
Far remov'd from Pleasure's Bed,
125

Leading to a distant Prize,
Past the Ken of human Eyes,
Reason's Sovereign-Rule deny'd,
Senses, Passions, mortify'd,
In a plain and simple Tale,
Ill constructed to prevail,
With no Eloquence to draw,
Nor Authority to awe,
Yet by Earth's first Pow'rs receiv'd,
And by Learning's Lights believ'd,
Reconciling what before
Mock'd the Sophist's baffled Lore,
Yet that Purpose undesign'd
'Scap'd the rustick Teachers' Mind,
Who, the subtle Schools unknown,
Knew no Doctrines but their own;
Nor in Rolls of Grecian Fame,
Reads an Epicurus' Name:
These are Stamps by Heav'n imprest,
Truth's inimitable Test.
Such were they, while Guilt and Shame
Brand th' impostor-Arab's Claim:
Vengeance, Rapine, Murder, Lust,
Ill denote a heav'nly Trust,
Tho' his Followers' Ruffian-Band
Speak the Wonders of his Hand,
Boasting in their martyr'd Train
Robbers by the plunder'd slain.
Well might he by Force impose
Creeds absurd on vanquish'd Foes;
Well seduce a sensual Crowd,
Vague Concubinage allow'd;
While his Paradise invites
To eternal lewd Delights.
But rank Incest, all his own,
Flames a Jewel in his Throne.
How unlike the Man divine!
In whose Life's fair Mirror shine
All the Precepts which he taught,
Spotless pure in Deed and Thought.
126

Ere the Beam of saving Light,
Trac'd the certain Path to Right,
Man, who unseduc'd by Art
Stifling Nature in his Heart,
Safer trusted native Sense
Than weak Learning's Insolence;
Nor, to eternize a Clod,
Labour'd to dethrone his God.
Where the poor untutor'd Hind
Awe-struck hears him in the Wind,
Sees him in the Light'ning blaze,
Feels him in the Solar Rays,
And thro' splendid Nature's Stores
In Effects their Cause adores,
Spreading wide as Nations spread,
Admiration, Love and Dread;
Or where Superstition owns
Virtues giv'n to Wood and Stones,
Whenther Jove, high-sculptur'd, rise
Awful Sov'reign of the Skies;
Or from monster-teeming Nile
Spring the worship'd Crocodile;
Or rough hewn with barb'rous Glare
Some tremendous Idol stare;
All evince a Pow'r imprest
Deep in Man's instinctive Breast,
Wrapt in Error.—So the eye
Traces in an Ev'ning-sky
Well-known Forms; yet what we see
Is but cloud-born Imag'ry.
Not more senseless Tales disgrace
The wild Faith of India's Race,
Than, obscur'd in heathen Gloom,
Sham'd the Lights of Greece and Rome,
When appall'd, the Brave and Wise
View'd Portents and Prodigies:
Did a Fowl in moping Mood,
Sick'ning shun its slighted Food;
Did a Bull ill-omen'd die,
Did a Bird sinister fly,
127

Earth's proud Masters trembling yield,
Ill resign'd, the unfought Field.
Self-borne thro' th' aetherial plain
Virtue led her radiant Train,
Scorning Titles, Wealth, and Pow'r,
Native Charms her only Dow'r:
Yet, inspir'd by Glory's Flame,
Pleas'd she heard the Trump of Fame,
Bade her Votaries pursue
Where the airy Phantom flew,
Wasting in the chace of Praise
Sleepless Nights and restless Days,
'Till a baseless Pile appear'd,
By recording Muses rear'd
There the Brave, the Good, the Sage,
Liv'd in Clio's deathless Page;
There Calliope display'd
Flow'ry Wreaths which never fade;
While Melpomene sublime
Rais'd to Heav'n the Gods of Rhime.
By such splendid Visions led
God-like Cato liv'd and bled;
Liv'd the first of human Race,
Dy'd in Pagan-Pride's disgrace,
Sullen shrinking in despair
From those Ills which Man should bear.
Brutus, high in Patriot-Blood,
Honest, gen'rous, brave and good,
Hapless, with one erring Stroke,
Rivetted his Country's Yoke,
Friendship stabb'd in Caesar slain,
O'er Philippe's fatal Plain
Soon he saw a Shadow fly,
Hov'ring in the angry Sky,
Late his Guide:—But ere He fell
Vanish'd the enchanting Spell,
Virtue's unsubstantial Frame
Sunk into an empty Name:
Still He err'd, and in his Fall
Saw blind Fortune govern all.
Such their Doom who unrestrain'd
Own no Laws for Man ordain'd,
128

Lost to Belssings that await
Merit in a happier State;
Nor behold in sweet Accord
Virtue's Charms and Heaven's Reward.
Socrates, when subtle Art
Silenc'd Instinct in his Heart,
Nor wou'd Nature's Law obey
Ill-resign'd to tyrant-Sway,
With fixt Eye and thirsty Soul
Eager view'd the deadly Bowl,
With firm Hand the Blessing caught,
Fame gay-smiling o'er the Draught.
Yet high rais'd by mental Pow'r,
Did that mighty Genius tow'r,
With all Nature's Treasures fraught,
By all Wisdom's Learning taught.
Such is Reason's strongest Ray,
Fading in the Flood of Day
Now Heav'n's saving Page hath shewn
Truths to Socrates unknown.
All that in fair Virtue charms,
All in social Love that warms,
All in Sympathy that glows,
Melting at another's Woes,
All that righteous Zeal should dare,
All that bids sweet Mercy spare,
All that in confided Trust
Steels the never-yielding Just,
These, confirm'd by Heav'n's Command,
On a Base eternal stand.
Tho' on some bleak Heath alone,
In his Storm-rent Cot unknown,
The starv'd Peasant, born to toil,
Tills, unpaid, a barren Soil;
Or fall'n Greatness in the Shade
Pain and Penury invade,
Now no more the Voice of Praise
Chaunting loud the Poet's Lays;
Tho' dark Slander's venom'd Tooth
Wound the blameless Breast of Truth;
129

Or a keener Foe intrude,
Foul and false Ingratitude;
Yet Religion's beaming Ray,
Portion of th' eternal Day,
With Heav'n's potent Influence fraught,
Spotless Sanctity of Thought,
Patience firm with stifl'd Sigh,
Fortitude with dauntless Eye,
Innocence in Virtue strong,
Meek Forgiveness pard'ning Wrong,
Charity's parental Tears,
Faith that warms, and Hope that cheers,
Can sweet Harmony inspire,
Sweeter than the Poet's Lyre.
If from the Accord of Things
Natural Religion springs,
With sufficient Force to bind
The strict Duties of our Kind,
While in Reason's moral Light
Wrong stands mark'd distinct from Right,
Whence, the Pride of Stoick Schools,
Epictetus drew his Rules;
Be this boastful Claim allow'd!
What avails it to the Crowd?
What to them, the unknown Use
Of Philosophy abstruse?
Hard their Doom, if millions stray
Whilst a Sophist finds his Way.
Or, if in the humble Shade
Instinct prompting lends its Aid,
Influencing the various Will,
Some to Good, and some to Ill,
Diff'ring as the human Frame
Differs, in no Two the same;
If all Virtue's understood,
The mere Child of balmy Blood;
If black Humours unsupprest
Taint with Vice the gloomy Breast;
If th' impelling Flood commands
Unrestrain'd fell Rapine's Hands;
Wrong'd they fall, by Laws unjust,
Who transgress because they must.
130

If the milder Stream supplies
Mercy's Beam in melting Eyes;
If their purer Influence warms,
Lighting all the inward Charms;
Sure, in partial Pow'r's Regard,
Virtue finds undue Reward.
Laws, unequal to prevent,
Know no Means but Chastisement,
And howe'er with Wisdom fraught,
Claim no Empire over Thought;
While the unreach'd Heart remains
Foul with ulcerated Stains,
Where the meditated Sin
Mocks all Pow'r, and lurks within,
'Till from that polluted Source
Crimes wide spread their wasteful Course.
Instinct, Reason, Law, for Man
Trac'd but an imperfect Plan,
'Till th' inspiring Word supply'd
What to Nature was deny'd;
Truths alike to all explain'd,
In that Code for all ordain'd,
Form'd alike to teach and bind
King, Philosopher, and Hind.
Thus the Sov'reign's Will exprest
Frames his Law to rule the Breast;
While his all-pervading Eyes
See the Crime that brooding lies,
See the Murd'rer's dark Intent,
Doom'd to threat'ned Punishment,
Deeply stain'd with moral Guilt,
Tho' Man's Blood escap'd unspilt—
While the Spirit all divine
Breathes in ev'ry sacred Line,
Shall vain Man with subtle Wit
Parts reject, and Parts admit?
Stating Proofs compar'd Degrees
With Improbabilities;
While in his suspended Scale
Reason dictates which prevail.
131

Yet the Sage in hungry Mood,
Trusts not Reason for his Food;
Nor the Sense unsatisfy'd,
Waits till chemick Art hath try'd
What with most salubrious Juice
Suits the wasting Body's Use;
Else, in gnawing Hunger's Pain,
Long the Sage would toil in vain.
Thus our grosser Wants supply'd,
Taste an ever ready Guide,
Shall what feeds the nobler Part,
Cheers and purifies the Heart,
Wait for tardy Reason's Aid,
Straying thro' a dubious shade?
While Enquiry hangs perplext
O'er the Comment-blotted Text.
In one clear and perfect Plan,
All Heav'n's Rules to govern Man,
On plain Nature's Level lie,
Obvious to weak Reason's Eye.
Yet to these, Conceits acute
Meanings never meant impute.
Mystery, before conceal'd,
Is Heav'n's Knowledge now reveal'd;
While Religion, soaring high,
Spreads the Secrets of the Sky.
Vainly would Conception strain
Ev'ry Link of Reason's Chain,
Far unequal to the Height
Of that Knowledge Infinite;
But strong Faith compels Assent,
As to Truths self-evident.
Reason's Weakness thus supply'd,
Fearless she pursues her Guide,
Certain that the Wise and Good,
(Prov'd in all Things understood)
Ne'er with impious Tales deceiv'd
Those who trusted and believ'd.
What tho' Sophistry exert
All her Talents to subvert?
Tho th' Enthusiast, Frenzy-fir'd,
132

Boast a Flame by God inspir'd?
Faith and Reason's Claim and Use,
Rise unreach'd by their Abuse.
Say, learned Deist! whose Assent
Grants a Pow'r omnipotent,
One uncomprehended Cause
Acting by his self-formed Laws,
Why thy varying Creed rejects
Incomprehensible Effects?
And would Reason's Line apply
To unfathom'd Mystery?
Does Creation stand explain'd
To thy finite Mind wide-strain'd?
While the Earth and Sea and Skies
From Non-entity arise,
Know'st thou thro' all Nature's List
How one Atom doth exist?
Less absurd thy Faith would end
Where Men cease to comprehend,
Tho' the Universe unite
To proclaim the Infinite.
Gracious Pow'r! to Thee we owe
All that Bounty can bestow;
We, the Objects of thy Care,
Live in Thee, and move and are;
Yet superior Thanks are due,
While the promis'd Bliss we view
In thy holy Word reveal'd,
When thy Blood the Compact seal'd.
Shall the Atheist, self-debar'd
From th' ineffable Reward?
Shall the Deist's Tribe profane?
Shall the Scorner's ribbald Train?
Infidelity far spread,
Raise the supercilious Head?
And no Bard, unaw'd, rehearse
Heav'n-taught Truths, in grateful Verse,
Rescuing from the impious Jest
Those who dare these Truths attest.
First of those, bless'd Monarch, hail!
Faith triumphant shall prevail,
133

While Religion on thy Throne
Sits, and markes thee for her own.
Her's thou art by ev'ry Claim:
In chaste Virtue's sacred Narme,
In those Charities that blend
Sov'reign, Father, Husband, Friend.
Gratitude that thanks and prays,
Zeal that worships and obeys,
Stamp thee her's, her Hope and Aid
When deserted and betray'd
From the Atheist blindly bold,
From Believers numb and cold,
Those who saving Truths reject,
Those who own them but neglect,
From the Reas'ner's Pride absurd
Spurning Heav'n's attested Word,
From the wild Enthusiast's Rant,
From the Hypocrite's false Cant,
From dark Superstition's Gloom,
From fell Persecution's Doom,
Piety compell'd to fly,
Finds thy Breast her Sanctuary.
Justice, Clemency, combin'd,
Spirit, resolute and kind,
Pleas'd to lead with gentle Hand,
Firm wild Faction to withstand,
Looks benignant, would impart,
Feelings of a spotless Heart,
All the Blessings these dispense,
Speak the Heav'n-sent Influence;
While staid Freedom's sober Train
Own a Monarch's legal Reign,
Viewing with indignant Eye
Licence leading Anarchy:
Nor shall delegated Sway
Stint thy intercepted Ray,
Drawing to a narrow Line
Bounty meant on all to shine.
 

Mahomet forbad Incest, but practised it himself.

“Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd Mind
Sees God in Clouds, or hears him in the Wind.”—

Pope.

135

VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE QUEEN,

WITH A NEW YEAR'S GIFT OF IRISH MANUFACTURE

By LORD CLARE.
137

Could poor Ierne Gifts afford,
Worthy the Consort of her Lord,
Of purest Gold a sculptur'd Frame,
Just Emblem of her Zeal, should flame:
Within, the Produce of her Soil,
Wrought by her Hand with curious Toil,
Should from her splendid Looms supply
The richest Web of Tyrian Dye;
Where blended Tints in plastic Lore,
Might, breathing, shame the sculptur'd Ore.
There should the Royal Charlotte trace
Her Brunswick, in majestic grace,
With Looks beneficently kind,
The Face illumin'd by the Mind;
While He, with Joy-transported Eyes,
Should see his much-lov'd Charlotte rise;
And Both behold their Infant-train,
Cull Flowrets on the pictur'd Plain,
Weaving for Them a fragrant band,
More sweet from the presenting Hand:
Such was the Wreath, when Hymen led
Our Monarch to his nuptial bed;
And such the tender Chain which binds,
In mutual Love, their wedded Minds.
Nor here the Artist's skill should cease:
Glorious in War, and great in Peace
Our King should stand, alike renown'd
With Laurel or with Olive crown'd:
Should, o'er the blood-besprinkled Field,
Bid Vengeance to Compassion yield;
138

Or Justice, rous'd by Faction's Band,
Snatch her sheath'd Sword from Mercy's Hand.
Far distant o'er the foaming Main,
And distant may it e'er remain!
A gathr'ing Cloud should blot the Skies,
And Mists in noxious Vapour rise;
Such as, in Summer's Solstice spread,
Steam from the pregnant Meadow's Bed;
While the bewilder'd Travellers roam
Wide from the Path which leads to Home;
No faithful Mark, no Guide secure
To trace the palpable Obscure:
And such the Veil hot Frenzy draws
O'er Reason, Liberty, and Laws.
But, close behind, returning Day
Should chace the Gloom obscene away;
And, mildly beaming, Heaven-sent Peace
Bid Discord and Confusion cease;
Lead Filial Piety sincere,
Bath'd in a penitential Tear,
To the fond Parent's melting Breast,
Long lost, a dearly welcome Guest.
Kind Industry, with ready Hand,
Should strew her Treasures o'er the Land;
Chearful her wonted Toil resume,
Rich Commerce spread, fair Plenty bloom;
And Love, the universal Soul,
Inspire, combine, and bless the whole.
And O! might poor Ierne hope,
In sober Freedom's liberal scope,
To ply the Loom, to plough the Main,
Nor see Heaven's Bounties pour'd in vain,
(1) Where starving Hinds, from Fens and Rocks,
View Pastures rich with Herds and Flocks;
And only view, forbid to taste;
Sad Tenants of a dreary Waste.
For other Hinds our Oxen bleed;
(2) Our Flocks for happier Regions feed,
Their Fleece to Gallia's Looms resign,
More rich than the Peruvian Mine;
Her Fields with barren Lilies strown,
Now white with Treasures not her own.
139

In vain Ierne's piercing Cries
Plaintive pursue the golden Prize;
While all aghast the Weaver stands,
And drops the Shuttle from His Hands.
Barter accurst! but mad Distress
To Ruin flies from Wretchedness.
Theirs be the Blame, who bar the Course
Of Commerce from her genuine Source,
And drive the Wretch his Thirst to slake
With Poison, in a stagnant Lake.
Hence Ports secure from ev'ry Wind,
For Trade, for Wealth, for Power design'd,
Where faithful Coasts and friendly Gales
Invite the Helm and court the Sails,
A wide deserted Space expand,
Surrounded with uncultur'd Land.
(3) Thence Poverty, with haggard Eye,
Beholds the British Streamers fly;
Beholds the Merchant doom'd to brave
The treacherous Shoal, and adverse Wave,
Constrain'd to risk his precious Store,
And shun our interdicted Shore.
(4) Thus Britain works a Sister's Woe;
Thus starves a Friend, and gluts a Foe.
Yet shall this humble Gift impart
The Tribute of a loyal Heart;
And Thou with Smiles benign receive:
('Tis all that loyal Heart can give.)
When on thy Robe with mingled Rays,
The Ruby and the Diamond blaze;
Unmindful of Golconda's Prize,
Thou mark'st our Rapture-sparkling Eyes;
Faintly her Gems their Lustre prove,
Lost in the Flame of Britain's Love.
And when the rustic Chorus sing
In artless Notes, God save the King;
Altho', with unmelodious Prayer,
In strains like mine They rend the Air;
Thy ravish'd Ears forget the Lyre,
E'en while Thy Hands the string inspire:
Such Notes, when grateful Crowds rejoice,
Hymn sweeter than a Seraph's Voice;
140

And such, along the swarming Shore,
Loud-echo'd to the Cannon's Roar;
While Britain's Glory shone display'd,
In all the Pride of Pomp array'd;
Where sovereign of the briny Flood,
Her Guardian Genius smiling stood.
141

VERSES addressed TO THE ---

WITH A NEW YEAR'S GIFT OF IRISH POTATOES. By LORD KNOWS WHO.

“Clara micante auro—”
“Materiem superabat opus, nam Mulciber illic.”—
Ovid.

Could a poor Hibernian dare
To emulate the generous Clare,
Of shining pewter pure and clean,
He'd make a present to the Queen.
On it a new invented work,
A charming etching, with a fork,
In curious stile, and matchless goût,
All Herculaneum should out do;
And as for touches, strokes, and air,
Put Cipriani in despair.
There should the royal Charlotte trace
His majesty king George's face,
In such nice strokes as shew it is
The mind illuminates the phyz.
While He should shake his sides to see
The likeness of her Majesty;
And both beheld their tiny moppets,
(Like the Fantoccini puppets,)
Culling heaps of pretty posies,
To salute their Royal noses;
Just such posies as they carried,
To refresh them when they married;
And such whose fresh and rosy hue,
142

Recall the Georgian bride to view.
But something more our skill to try on,
As mild as dove, as bold as lion,
Our King should stand—as thus—a sprig
Of bays should dignify his wig;
While olive branches stuck behind,
To enemies should prove him kind;
Tho', if one chest of tea is tost on
The waves, he's sure to ruin Britain.
To prove the point, in the back ground,
(That so the distance might be found,)
A cloud of stinking smoke should rise,
(A tar and feather sacrifice,)
Such as in summer time is seen,
From burning weeds upon the green,
Which some old woman's purblind eyes,
Impute to dread incendiaries,
For spectacles she will not take,
To see her palpable mistake,
And, just as wisely we lay stress
On the American Congress.
But, close behind, the sun should rise,
By way of clearing up the skies;
And heavenly Dartmouth should present
A recipe for sure content;
Like naughty boys, with streaming eyes,
Should introduce the Colonies,
To promise, all their squabble ends,
If dear mama will kiss and friends;
Then how should industry abound;
With not a beggar to be found;
E'en sharpers should grow honest then,
And none be rogues but Fielding's men;
And Love, that little smiling boy,
Give us a belly full of joy.
And oh! while miracles take place,
May not poor Ireland hope for grace?
No more, to view Heaven's gifts in vain,
Let her have leave “to plough the main”;
Because her land's so very poor,
To plough on that she can't endure;
Exports of beef, good Queen, condemn;
143

Leave Irish bulls for Irish men
That so we may not still complain,
We are the only beasts remain;
But chief forbid to cross the seas,
Our sheep—those worst of absentees.
For them we make a double struggle,
Mutton to eat, and wool to smuggle;
Tho', (by the way) my mind it racks,
That Irish wool cloaths Frenchmen's backs;
But Frenchmen, like ill-natur'd fellows,
Will never cease to undersell us;
Thence, to avenge such treatment foul,
We all set up “the Irish howl.'
The godlike weavers catch the sound,
And raging white boys spread around:
Hanging ensues! that unkind way
To terminate an Irish fray.
Theirs be the blame, who are the cause,
By making those strange things call'd laws,
That give the weaver's fancy scope,
In manufacturing—a rope.
Laws are the cruel obstacles, my dear,
Good Lady, to our Irish chear,
For what, though all along our shore,
The winds are too polite to roar,
Though they blow an invitation
To the ships of ev'ry nation,
The merchants first must pay their court,
By touching at a British port:
A form of law that's very troubling
To the vessels bound for Dublin!
Thus Britain has the upper hand,
Though why I cannot understand,
Unless to shew us, 'gainst our will,
That she's our elder sister still.
And, yet shall these Potatoes prove
Emblems of Hibernian love:
Emblems though poor, yet, as I live,
They're all I can afford to give.
Then scruple not to eat your fill,
As they are tokens of good will:
So, though your Majesty display
Your glittering jewels at the play,
144

You'd rather see one English grin,
Than view your finest diamond pin,
Because, the ogles of John Trot
Can make your diamonds quite forgot:
And, if St. Margaret's steeple ring,
In broken notes, “God save the King;”
Although the bells as badly chime,
As even I myself can rhyme,
You'd rather list to them, than play
At your own harpsichord all day;
Because whatever makes a noise,
May seem at least like public joys;
So when the King to Portsmouth flew,
To give the navy a review,
Soon as the guns began to fire,
(A compliment great folks admire,)
The Genius smil'd, and vow'd before,
He ne'er had felt such joys on shore.
Finis.
 

An imitation of “Verses addressed to The Queen.”

145

THE GENIUS OF IRELAND,

A NEW YEAR'S GIFT TO LORD CLARE. IN RETURN TO HIS LORDSHIP'S TO THE QUEEN.

“Jubes Renovare Dolorem.”—
Virg.

Whilst you, my Lord, were proud to raise
A Trophy to your Sovereign's Praise;
And dar'd for This, the Muses Doom,
To bear the Labours of the Loom;
Who, Maids of Honour like, ne'er knew
To weave, or spin, or knot, or sew;
Those happy Maids, whom Court denies
To toil, but with their Tongues and Eyes!
Yet harder still, you dar'd to summon,
These Muses to an Irish Common;
Where,—like the Witches in Macbeth,
So wide, so bleak, so rough, so drear,
Appeared the Scene, They thought that Death
Had summon'd Them to meet with Fear;
And form some solemn Dirge below,
To human Crimes and human Woe.
Affrighted at thy thund'ring Voice,
Without a Moment's Thought for Choice,
They came; and hop'd another Gray
His Muses summon'd thus away,
To lay the Warp, the Woof to ply,
For Verse of Immortality;
But when commanded thus abroad,
146

A meer Ephemera to borrow,
The Gewgaw of a New-Year's Ode,
That's Verse to Day, and Dung to Morrow,
Was all your Honour ask'd;—They rose.
In Clamour never known in Prose;
Such Strokes no Mortal can Rehearse,
'Twas Junius Sharpen'd into Verse;
At length the Ladies Crash declin'd,
Whilst thus their last Sobs to the Wind
Euterpe gave,—at such a Time,
‘Not strive to build the lofty Rhime!
‘Whether Religion or the Queen
‘Are drag'd upon the public Scene;
‘Ne'er judge what sounds to Each belong!
‘Give what is easy for what's fit!
‘A Haberdasher in Sing-Song!
‘A meer Retailer of Small-Wit!
‘And yet this lazy-Rhiming Wight
‘We follow'd Morning, Noon and Night:
‘At Morn for Thoughts, at Eve for Dreams,
‘To Us He was so deep a Debtor,
‘That Horace, Antient as he seems,
‘Was scarcely known to treat with better;
‘And when He chose his Head to Pop
‘Into Friend Dodley's Rhiming Shop,
‘I speak the Truth, nor more nor less,
‘Princes were honour'd by the Press;
‘But thus in glowing Stile He wrote,
‘E'er Heralds blazon'd up his Coat;
‘E'er lazy Title, splendid Ease,
‘Discharg'd Us from his Witty Board,
‘Forbad a Coronet to seize,
‘Or know a Poet in a Lord.
‘Above all scribbling Hopes and Fears,
‘He laughs away declining Years;
‘Nor courts again with aching Head
147

‘Th' Inspiring Days of good Prince Fred!
‘Except when,—what's as warm as Beauty,
‘The Politicians term it—Duty,
‘Bids the Vice-Treasurer to impart,
‘The Tribute of a grateful Heart,
‘And for—3000 1. per Ann.—
‘To compliment the best He can;
‘To help Him at this painful Lift,
‘And fritter out a New-Year's Gift,
‘To manufacture Irish Stuff,
‘Truth's Emblem, as its plain and rough;
‘Here far from Gosfield Grove and Hall,
‘In spite of Climate, Wind and Weather,
‘Obedient to his Lordship's Call,
‘A pretty Group We make together!
‘Say Sisters! what shall We afford
‘Our Quondam Friend, this Irish Lord?
‘To suit his cultivated Taste!'
She stop'd;—For, Tenant of the Waste,
With crouching Gait and Footstep slow,
Tottering beneath the weight of Woe,
With furrow'd Forehead, haggard Eye,
Lank Cheek, pale Lip, and livid Hue,
The Genius stern of Poverty
Slow from his Cavern crawl'd to view;
And thus began,—“Whoever mov'd,
“This Kingdom views, by Nature lov'd,
“Where all that decks the Land or Main,
“Commercial Traffick, Fruitful Soil,
“By Her are giv'n, but giv'n in vain,
“White fetter'd is the Hand of Toil;
“He, He alone, will truly see,
“The Curse of Modern Policy;
“He, He alone will truly feel
“The Sorrows that I now reveal;
“How Industry can scarcely give
“The little privilege to Live;
“Britain just gleans enough for Tools,
148

“To silence Knaves and fatten Fools;
“Whatever else our Heaven bestows,
“To starve our Friends must glut our Foes;
“The Stream tho' Ours, tho' Ours its Source,
“Forbidden to direct its Course,
“We never taste, while We survey,
“The Bread We might to All convey;
“But with a Toil-confounding Moan,
“Feed every Nation but our own;
“Each Patriot, thus, in Truth or Jest,
“Of Tyranny the Picture draws,
“But still in Shades he sinks the Rest,
“Nor ever dares to Hint the Cause:
“What Curse is Theirs then who deny
“That Blessed Bond of Amity,
“Which Sea to Sea and Shore to Shore
“Uniting, would each Isle Restore,
“What, by Position Nature meant,
“A Power to guide the Continent;
“To make the Noise of Nations cease,
“And lull the Dogs of War to Peace;
“Whilst o'er these mighty Isles They saw
“One King, one Parliament, one Law,
“Allowing all, that Freedom cou'd,
“Commerce for universal Good,
“Which had for Us each Sail unfurld,
“And in our Power would Guard the World?
“What Curse is Theirs, each recreant Slave,
“Who Nature's Laws thus dares to brave,
“And while two Islands stretch their Hands,
“Steps forth and will forbid the Bands;
“Each pension'd Slave of Strings and Stars,
“The Ruler of our petty Jars,
“Each Patriot slave, whose petty Cause,
“The Bubble of a Mob's Applause,
“Can scorn the Gift Dominion Brings,
“And fetter Liberty with Kings?
“Be it, ay—be it—in one Word,
“A King, Mob, Commoner or Lord,
“For narrow Views by narrow Arts,
“Who separates united Hearts;
“Where one the Interest, one the Voice,
“Wou'd rule Them by divided Choice;
149

“would keep the Bridegroom from the Bride,
The Body sever from the Soul,
“Britain from Ireland, who Divide,
Give Them—Alass!—an IRISH HOWL!”
He said,—and with a more than mortal Groan
Shook either Land;—the Muses fled through Fear;
GEORGE wail'd the Base-born arts that rule a Throne,
And CHARLOTTE bless'd each Kingdom with a Tear.
 

See a late Poem, Y'cleped Faith, by L---C---

See in Dodsley's Collection the Ode to Mankind with an Introduction to Frederick Prince of Wales, and other fine Odes by L---d C---

Irish Stuff presented with the Verses to the Queen as a New Year's Gift.

150

AN EPISTLE TO MR. POPE

By THE SAME.
Heaven in the human breast implants
Fit appetites for all our wants;
With hunger prompts to strength'ning food,
With love of praise to public good;
These to their object strait convey,
While reason winds her tardy way.
Yet in one center should unite,
Faith, instinct, reason, appetite:
One perfect plan ordain'd to trace,
And nature dignify with grace;
In one great system meant to roll,
To move, support, and guide the whole.
But some there are who rigid blame
The mind that thirsts for righteous fame;
And with weak lights presumptuous scan
The springs which move predestin'd man.
And some there are, accurs'd their art,
Though all the nine their charms impart,
Who in false forms of great and just,
Cloath av'rice, treachery, rage and lust:
As if superior beings suit
Those attributes which sink the brute.
But vainly chime the partial lays,
Chaste Fame rejects all spurious praise.
She, fairest offspring of the skies,
The goddess of the brave and wise,
Whose sacred impulse prompts the best
To succour and preserve the rest,
Is deaf to every private call,
And wakes but at the voice of all.
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From heaps of ill-collected gain,
From hecatombs by heroes slain,
From courts, where guilty greatness dwells,
She flies to penury and cells;
With Erskine, pious exile, goes,
To sooth a drooping father's woes;
Or mingling with the orphan-train,
She flings the bounties of Germain.
Nor pow'r, nor policy of state,
Can ever give intrinsic weight:
And should fallacious art display
O'er titled dross a golden ray,
Still baser through detecting years,
The speckled counterfeit appears.
But when from proof, fair issuing forth,
The ore asserts its native worth;
Then, sov'reign bard, 'tis justly thine
And consecrated with thy name,
To treasure in the stores of Fame.

EPISTLE TO POLLIO, FROM THE HILLS OF HOWTH IN IRELAND.

By THE SAME.
Pollio! would'st thou condescend
Here to see thy humble friend,
Far from doctors, potions, pills,
Drinking health on native hills;
Thou the precious draught may'st share,
Lucy shall the bowl prepare.
From the brousing goat it flows,
From each balmy shrub that grows;
Hence the kidling's wanton fire,
Hence the nerves that brace his sire.
Vigorous, buxom, young and gay,
Thou like them shalt love and play.
152

What, though far from silver Thames,
Stately piles, and courtly dames;
Here we boast a purer flood,
Joys that stream from sprightly blood;
Here is simple beauty seen,
Fair, and cloth'd like beauty's queen:
Nature's hands the garbs compose,
From the lilly and the rose.
Or, if charmed with richer dies,
Fancy every robe supplies.
Should perchance some high-born fair,
Absent, claim thy tender care;
Here, enraptur'd shalt thou trace,
S---'s shape, and R---'s face;
While the waking dream shall pay
Many a wishing, hopeless day.
Domes with gold and toil unbought,
Rise by magic pow'r of thought,
Where by artist's hand undrawn,
Slopes the vale, and spreads the lawn;
As if sportive nature meant,
Here to mock the works of Kent.
Come, and with thee bring along
Jocund tale and witty song,
Sense to teach, and words to move,
Arts that please, adorn, improve;
And, to gild the glorious scene,
Conscience spotless and serene.
Poor with all a H------t's store,
Lives the man who pines for more.
Wretched he who, doom'd to roam,
Never can be blest at home;
Nor retire within his mind,
From th' ungrateful and unkind.
Happy they whom crowds befriend,
Curs'd who on the crowd depend;
On the great one's peevish fit,
On the coxcomb's spurious wit;
Ever sentenc'd to bemoan
Other failings in their own.
If, like them, rejecting ease,
Hills and heath no longer please;
Ouick descend!—Thou may'st resort
To the viceroy's splendid court.
153

There, indignant, shalt thou see
Cringing slaves who might be free,
Brib'd with titles, hope or gain,
Tye their country's shameful chain;
Or, inspired by heaven's good cause,
Waste the land with holy laws:
While the gleanings of their power,
Lawyers, lordlings, priests devour.
Now methinks, I hear thee say,
“Drink alone thy mountain-whey!
Wherefore tempt the Irish shoals?
Sights like these are nearer Paul's.”

AN EPISTLE.

By THE SAME.
Through the wild maze of life's still varying plan,
Bliss is alone th' important talk of man.
All else is trifling, whether grave or gay,
A Newton's labours, or an infant's play;
Whether this vainly wafts th' unheeded fun,
Or those more vainly mark the course it run;
For of the two, sure smaller is the fault,
To err unthinking, than to err with thought;
But if, like them, we still must trifles use,
Harmless at least, like theirs, be those we chuse.
Enough it is that reason blames the choice,
Join not to her's the wretch's plaintive voice;
Be folly free from guilt: let foplings play,
Or write, or talk, or dress, or die away.
Let those, if such there be, whose giant-mind
Superior tower's above their pigmy kind,
Unaided and alone, the realms explore,
Where hail and snow renew their treasur'd store.
Lo! heav'n spreads all its stars; let those explain,
What balanc'd pow'rs the rolling orbs sustain;
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Nor in more humble scales, pernicious weigh
Sense, justice, truth, against seducing pay.
So distant regions shall employ their thought,
And spotless senates here remain unbought.
Well had great Charles, by early want inspir'd,
With warring puppets, guiltless praise acquir'd,
So would that flame have mimic fights engag'd,
Which fann'd by pow'r, o'er wasted nations rag'd.
Curs'd be the wretch, should all the mouths of fame,
Wide o'er the world his deathless deeds proclaim,
Who like a baneful comet spreads his blaze,
While trembling crowds in stupid wonder gaze;
Whose potent talents serve his lawless will,
Which turns each Virtue to a public ill,
With direful rage perverted might employs,
And heaven's great ends with heaven's best means destroys.
The praise of power is his, whose hand supplies
Fire to the bold, and prudence to the wise;
While man this only real merit knows,
Fitly to use the gift which heaven bestows:
If savage valour be his vaunted fame,
The mountain-lion shall dispute his claim:
Or, if perfidious wiles deserve applause,
Through slighted vows, and violated laws;
The subtle plotter's title stands confess'd,
Whose dagger gores the trusting tyrant's breast,
And sure the villain less deserves his fate,
Who stabs one wretch, than he who stabs a state.
Now, mighty hero! boast thy dear delights,
The price of toilsome days and sleepless nights;
Say, canst thou aught in purple grandeur find,
Sweet as the slumbers of the lowly hind?
Better are ye, the youthful and the gay,
Who jocund rove through pleasure's flow'ry way!
Ye seek not there for bliss! your toil were vain,
(And disappointed toil is double pain)
Though from the living fount your nectar-bowls
Pour the soft balm upon your thirsty souls;
Though pure the spring, though every draught sincere,
By pain unbitter'd, and unpall'd by fear;
Though all were full as high as thought can soar,
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'Till fancy fires, and wishes crave no more:
Let lovely woman artless charms display,
Where truth and goodness bask in beauty's ray;
Let heavenly melody luxuriant float
In swelling sounds, and breathe the melting note;
Let gen'rous wines enliv'ning thought inspire,
While social converse sooths the genial fire:
If aught can yet more potent charms dispense,
Some stronger rapture, some sublimer sense;
Be these enjoy'd.—Then from the crowd arise
Some chief, in life's full pride maturely wise.
Ev'n you, my Lord, with titles, honours grac'd,
And higher still by native merit plac'd;
By stinted talents to no sphere confin'd,
Free ranging every province of the mind:
Equally fit, a nation's weight to bear,
Or shine in circles of the young and fair;
In grave debates instructed senates move,
Or melt the glowing dame to mutual love.
To heighten these, let conscious worth infuse
Sweet ease, and smiling mirth th' inspiring Muse.
Then answer, thou of every gift possess'd,
Say, from thy soul, art thou sincerely blest;
To various objects wherefore dost thou range!
Pleasure must cease, ere man can wish to change.
Hast thou not quitted Flaccus' sacred lay,
To talk with Bavius, or with Flavia play;
When wasted nature shuns the large expence
Of deep attention to exalted sense!
Precarious bliss! which soon, which oft must cloy,
And which how few, how very few enjoy!
Say, is there aught, on which, completely blest,
Fearless and full the raptur'd mind may rest?
Is there aught constant? Or, if such there be,
Can varying man be pleas'd with constancy?
Mark then what sense the blessing must employ!
The senses change, and loath accustom'd joy,
Eden in vain immortal sweets displays,
If the taste sickens, or our frame decays.
The range of life contracted limits bound;
Yet more confin'd is pleasure's faithless round:
Fair op'ning to the sight, when first we run,
But, ah! how alter'd, when again begun!
When tir'd we view the same known prospect o'er,
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And lagging, tread the steps we trod before.
Now clogg'd with spleen, the lazy current flows,
Through doubts, and fears, and self-augmenting woes;
'Till fated, loathing, hopeless here of bliss,
Some plunge to seek it into death's abyss.
Of all superfluous wealth's unnumber'd stings,
The sharpest is that knowledge which it brings;
Enjoyment purchas'd makes its object known,
And then, alas! each soft illusion's flown:
Love's promis'd sweet, ambition's lofty scheme,
The painter's image, and the poet's theme.
These, in perspective fair exalted high,
Attract with seeming charms the distant eye:
But when by envious Fortune plac'd too near,
Mis-shapen forms, and grosser tints appear:
Where lovely Venus led her beauteous train,
Some friend gigantic holds her monstrous reign;
Crowns, sceptres, laurels are confus'dly strow'd,
A wild, deform'd, unmeaning, heavy load.
Some pleasures here with sparing hand are giv'n,
That sons of earth should taste their promis'd heav'n;
But what was meant to urge us to the chace,
Now stops, or sideway turns our devious race:
Though still to make the destin'd course more plain,
Thick are our erring paths beset with pain;
Nor has one object equal charms to prove
The fitting center of our restless love.
And when the great Creator's will had join'd,
Unequal pair! the body and the mind,
Lest the proud spirit should neglect her clay,
He bad corporeal objects thought convey:
Each strong sensation to the foul impart,
Ecstatic transport or afflicting smart:
By that entic'd, the useful she enjoys;
By this deterr'd, she flies whate'er destroys:
Hence from the dagger's point sharp anguish flows,
And the soft couch is spread with sweet repose.
In something frail, though gen'ral this design,
For some exceptions every rule confine:
Yet few were they, while nature's genuine store
Supply'd our wants, nor man yet fought for more;
Ere diff'rent mixtures left no form the same,
And vicious habits chang'd our sickly frame.
Now subtle art may gild the venom'd pill,
157

And bait with soothing sweets destructive ill.
To narrow self heav'n's impulse unconfin'd
Diffusive reigns, and takes in all our kind.
The smile of joy reflected joy imparts;
The wretch's groans pierce sympathizing hearts.
Yet not alike are all conjoin'd with all,
Nor throng with rival heat to nature's call:
By varying instinct different ties are known,
With love superior points to each his own;
Those next the reach of our assisting hands,
And those to whom we're link'd by kindred bands;
Those who most want, and best deserve our care,
In warmer streams the sacred influence share:
Ambrosial sweets her infant's lips distils,
While through the mother's heart quick rapture thrills.
The social fire's friend, servant, neighbour claim,
Which blaze collected in the patriot's flame:
Hence Britain throbs superior in thy soul,
Nor idly wak'st thou for the distant pole.
Yet farther still the saving instinct moves,
And to the future wide extends our loves;
Glows in our bosom for an unborn race,
And warms us mutual to the kind embrace.
For this, to man was giv'n the graceful air;
For this, was woman form'd divinely fair.
But now to pleasure sensual views confin'd,
Reach not the use, for which it was design'd:
To this one point our hopes, our wishes tend,
And thus mistake the motive for the end.
Whate'er sensations from enjoyment flow,
Our erring thought to matter's force would owe;
To that ascribe our pleasures and our pains,
And blindly for the cause mistake the means;
In od'rous meads the vernal gale we praise,
Or dread the storm, that blows the wintry seas;
While he's unheeded, who alone can move,
Claims all our fears, and merits all our love;
Alone to souls can sense and thought convey,
Through the dark mansions of surrounding clay.
Man, part from heav'n, and part from humble earth,
A motley substance, takes his various birth;
Close link'd to both, he hangs in diff'rent chains,
The pliant fetter length'ning as he strains.
If, bravely conscious of her native fires,
158

To the bold height his nobler frame aspires;
Near as she soars to join th' approaching skies,
Our earth still lessens to her distant eyes.
But if o'erpois'd she sinks, her downward course
Each moment weighs, with still augmenting force;
Low and more low, the burden'd spirit bends,
While weaker still each heav'nly link extends;
'Till prostrate, grov'ling, fetter'd to the ground,
She lies in matter's heap o'erwhelm'd and bound.
Wrapt in the toils of sin, just heav'n employs
What caus'd her guilt, to blast her lawless joys:
Love, potent guardian of our length'ning race,
Unnerves the feeble lecher's cold embrace;
And appetite, by nature giv'n to save,
Sinks the gorg'd glutton in his early grave.
What sends yon fleet o'er boist'rous seas to roll,
Beneath the burning line, and frozen pole?
Why ravage men the hills, the plains, the woods?
Why spoil all nature, earth, and air, and floods?
Seek they some prize to help a sinking state,
No!—this must all be done ere Bernard eat.
Tell it some untaught savage! with surprise
He asks, “How vast must be that giant's size!
“How great his pow'r, who thousands can employ!
“How great his force, who millions can destroy!”
But if the savage would, more curious, know
What potent virtues from such viands flow,
What blest effects they cause—consult with Sloane,
Let him explain the colic, gout, and stone!
Pleasure's for use; it differs in degree,
Proportion'd to the thing's necessity.
Hence various objects variously excite,
And diff'rent is the date of each delight;
But when th' allotted end we once attain,
Each step beyond it, is a step to pain.
Nor let us murmur.—Hath not earth a store
For every want? it was not meant for more.
Blest is the man, as far as earth can bless,
Whose measur'd passions reach no wild excess;
Who, urg'd by nature's voice, her gifts enjoys,
Nor other means, than nature's force, employs.
159

While warm with youth the sprightly current flows,
Each vivid sense with vig'rous rapture glows;
And when he droops beneath the hand of age,
No vicious habit stings with fruitless rage;
Gradual, his strength, and gay sensations cease,
While joys tumultous sink in silent peace.
Far other is his lot, who, not content
With what the bounteous care of nature meant,
With labour'd skill would all her joys dilate,
Sublime their sense, and lengthen out their date;
Add, blend, compose, each various mixture try,
And wind up appetite to luxury.
Thus guilty art unknown desires implants,
And viler arts must satisfy their wants;
When to corruption by himself betray'd,
Gold blinds the slave, whom luxury has made.
The hand, that form'd us, must some use intend,
It gives us pow'rs proportioned to that end;
And happiness may justly be defin'd
A full attainment of the end design'd.
Virtue and wisdom this alike implies,
And blest must be the virtuous and the wise.
Bliss is ordain'd for all, since heav'n intends
All beings should attain their destin'd ends:
For this the fair idea shines confess'd
To every mind, and glows in every breast.
Compar'd with this, all mortal joys are vain:
Inspir'd by this, we restless onward strain.
High though we mount, the object mounts more high,
Eludes our grasp, and mingles with the sky.
With nothing less th' aspiring soul's content,
For nothing less her gen'rous flame was meant;
Th' unerring rule, which all our steps should guide,
The certain test, by which true good is try'd.
Blest when we reach it, wretched while we miss,
Our joys, our sorrows prove, there must be bliss.
Nor can this be some visionary dream,
Where heated fancy forms the flatt'ring scheme.
There sure is bliss—else, why by all desir'd?
What guileful pow'r has the mad search inspir'd?
Could accident produce in all the same,
Or a vain shadow raise a real flame?
When nature in the world's distended space,
Or fill'd, or almost fill'd each smaller place;
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Careful in meanest matter to produce
Each single motion for some certain use;
Hard was the lot of her first fav'rite, man,
Faulty the scheme of his contracted span,
If that alone must know an useless void,
And he feel longings ne'er to be enjoy'd.
That can only produce consummate joy,
Which equals all the pow'rs it would employ;
Such fitting object to each talent giv'n,
Earth cannot fit what was design'd for heav'n.
Why then is man with gifts sublimest fraught,
And active will, and comprehensive thought?
For what is all this waste of mental force?
What! for a house, a coach, a dog, a horse?
Has nature's Lord invented nature's plan?
Is man now made for what was made for man?
There must be pleasures past the reach of sense,
Some nobler source must happiness dispense:
Reason, arise! and vindicate thy claim,
Flash on our minds the joy-infusing flame;
Pour forth the fount of light, whose endless store
Thought drinks insatiate, while it thirsts for more,
And thou, seraphic flame! who could'st inspire
The prophet's voice, and wrap his soul in fire;
Ray of th' eternal beam! who canst pervade
The distant past, and future's gloomy shade:
While trembling reason tempts heav'n's dazzling height,
Sublime her force, and guide her dubious flight;
Strengthen'd by thee, she bears the streaming blaze,
And drinks new light from truth's immortal rays.
Great, only evidence of things divine!
By thee reveal'd, the mystic wonders shine!
What puzzled sophists vainly would explore,
What humbled pride in silence must adore,
What plainly mark'd in heav'n's deliver'd page,
Makes the taught hind more wise than Greece's sage.
Yet reason proves thee in her low degree,
And owns thy truths, from their necessity.
Conspicuous now is happiness display'd,
Possessing him for whom alone we're made.
For he alone all human bliss compleats,
To him alone th' expanding bosom beats;
Who fills each faculty, each pow'r can move,
Exerts all thought, and deep absorbs all love;
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Whose ceaseless being years would tell in vain,
Whose attributes immense all bounds disdain.
No sickly taste the heav'nly rapture cloys,
Nor wearied sense sink in whelming joys;
While, rais'd above low matter's grosser frame,
Pure spirit blazes in his purer flame.
Such are th' immortal blessings that attend
The just and good, the patriot and the friend.
Nor such alone in distant prospect cheer,
They taste heav'n's joys anticipated here.
These in the smiling cups of pleasure flow,
Or, mingling, sooth the bitter stream of woe;
These pay the loss of honours, and of place,
And teach that guilt alone is true disgrace;
These with the glorious exile cheerful rove,
And, far from courts, fresh bloom in Curio's grove.
Long may such bliss, by such enjoy'd, attest,
The greatly virtuous are the greatly blest!
Enough there are amidst yon gorgeous train,
Who, wretched, prove all other joys are vain.
So shines the truth these humble lines unfold,
“Fair virtue ever is unwisely sold.”
Too mean a price sublimest fortune brings,
Too mean the wealth, the smiles, the crowns of kings:
For rais'd o'er these, she makes our bliss secure,
The present pleasing, and the future sure.
While prosp'rous guilt a sad reverse appears,
And in the tasteless now, the future fears.
 

Job, chap. xxxviii.

Charles V., Emperor of Germany, who in his retirement amused himself with puppets. See Strada de bello Belgico.

A Frenchman render'd famous for a most extravagant expence in eating.

AN EPISTLE TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD VISCOUNT CORNBURY.

By ---, Esq.
While you, my Lord, alas! amidst a few,
With generous warmth your country's good pursue;
While to that centre all your wishes tend,
Accept the zeal that prompts a willing friend.
Others like you heav'n's hallow'd spark inspir'd
Whom soon the blaze of selfish passion fir'd
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Soon ruder flames extinguish'd reason's light,
While prejudice foul'd their jaundic'd sight.
Such through false optics every object prove,
And try the good and bad, by hate and love.
All-powerful means each virtue to supply,
All-powerful means each virtue to deny;
To Wyndham strength, and grace, and fire, and weight;
To Granville parts, to save a sinking state.
Hence various judgments form the madden'd throng,
Only in this alike, they all are wrong.
Hence to false praise shall blame unjust succeed,
And cherubs fall, and gods unpity'd bleed.
Would you, my friend, not mix the purer flame,
Nor loose the patriot in a baser name;
Nor factious rage mistake for public zeal,
Nor private int'rest for the gen'ral weal?
By truth's sure test let every deed be try'd,
And justice ever be th' unerring guide.
Her rules are plain, and easy is her way,
And yet how hard to find if once we stray!
All lost alike the maze perplex'd we tread,
However prompted, whether drove or led;
Whether false honour or ambition goad,
Or sneaking av'rice wind the miry road,
Or whether sway'd by passions not our own,
And the weak fear of being right alone.
Alone in such a cause 'tis base to fear,
Though fools suspect, and knaves designing sneer.
Sneer, villains, sneer! th' avenging time is nigh,
When Balbo scourg'd shall weep the taunting lie;
When Stopus foul with each imputed crime,
Shall dread false prose repaid with honest rhyme.
'Tis not enough you scorn a private claim,
And to your country's good direct your aim.
Wrong is still wrong, however great the end,
Though all the realm were brother, father, friend;
Justice regards not these—where right prevails,
A nation is an atom in her scales.
Heaven means not all the good which man can gain,
But that which truth can earn, and right maintain.
However fair the tempting prize may be,
If guilt the price, it is not meant for thee.
Succeeding times may claim the just design,
Or other means, or other powers than thine.
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Each part's connected with the gen'ral plan,
The weal of Britain, with the weal of man.
Justice the scale of interest for the whole,
The same in Indies as beneath the pole;
Sure rule by which heav'n's blessings to dispense,
Unerring light of guiding providence.
Others may fail—If wrongly understood,
How fatal is the thirst of public good!
No heavier curse almighty vengeance brings,
Nor plagues, nor famine, nor the lust of kings.
Fir'd by this rage, the frantic sons of Rome,
The suff'ring world of death and bondage doom;
Nations must sink to raise her cumb'rous frame,
And millions bleed to eternize her name.
But lo! her glories fade, her empire's past,
She madly conquer'd but to fall the last.
Nor would I here the patriot's views reprove,
Or damp the sacred flame of social love.
Still may that portion of th' eternal ray
Sublime our sense, and animate our clay;
Above low self exalt th' immortal frame,
And emulate that heav'n from whence it came.
Oh! would it never be confin'd to place,
But beam extensive as the human race:
Be, as it was design'd, the world's great soul,
Connect its parts, and actuate the whole.
So each should think himself a part alone,
And for a nation's welfare stake his own!
Yet farther still, though dearest to the breast,
That nation think but part of all the rest.
For this let equal justice poise the ball,
Her swaying force unites us all to all;
Of manners, worship, form, no diff'rence knows,
Condemns our friends, and saves our better foes.
Confess the heavenly power! nor need you fear
Lest Britain suffer, while you follow her.
Though prosp'rous crimes some daring villains raise,
Nor life's short date my halting vengeance seize;
A nation cannot 'scape—the destin'd rage
Pursues her ceaseless to some future age;
Speeds the sure ruin from the Conqueror's hand,
Or spreads corruption o'er a pining land.
Ask hoary Time, what nation is most blest?
For sage experience shall this truth attest:
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“Where freedom sleeps secure from lawless wrath,
“Where commerce shelter'd flows through public faith,
“Where fell ambition lights no foreign wars,
“Nor discord rages with intestine jars;
“Where justice reigns.”—Immortal were that state,
If aught immortal here were giv'n by Fate.
Such, lost Iberia! were those happy reigns,
When liberty sat brooding o'er thy plains.
The rich in plenteous peace their stores enjoy'd,
By cares unvex'd, by luxury uncloy'd,
Hope sooth'd the poor with promises of gain
And paid with future joys their present pain;
Shew'd the full bowl amidst their sultry toil,
While those who prun'd the olive drank the oil;
By night of all the fruits of day possest,
Labour soft-clos'd the eye, and sweeten'd rest.
Such was thy state, all gay in nature's smiles!
And such is now the state of Britain's isles.
Hence o'er the ocean's waste her sail unfurl'd,
Wide wafts the tribute of a willing world.
Hence trusting nations treasure here their wealth
Safe from tyrannic force or legal stealth:
And hence the injur'd exile doom'd to roam,
Shall find his country here and dearer home.
Still be this truth, this saving truth confest;
Britain is great, because with freedom blest;
Her prince is great, because her people free,
And power here springs from public liberty.
Hail, mighty monarch of the free and great!
Firm on the basis of a prosp'rous state.
The wealth, the strength of happy millions thine,
United rife, united shall decline.
For time will come, sad period of the brave,
When Britain's humble prince shall rule the slave;
When traffic vile shall buy our ruin and their own.
But long, O long th' inglorious doom suspend!
What virtue gain'd may virtue still defend!
Thrice sacred spirit, never may you cease,
But as you blaz'd in war, shine forth in peace!
Dauntless with all the force of truth engage
The headlong tide of each corrupted age.
O ever wake around one favour'd throne,
Nor let our guardian monarch wake alone!
Though oft defeated, and though oft betray'd,
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Numbers shall rise in sacred freedom's aid.
Far as her all-enlivening influence reigns,
Heroic ardour beats in gen'rous veins.
Now bids learn'd Greece barbarian might defy,
Now the soft arts of polish'd tyranny;
Now to no stock, or sect, or place confin'd,
She takes adopted sons from human kind;
While denizen'd by her eternal laws,
They are all Britons who shall serve her cause.
Lo! to the banner crowds a youthful band;
Form'd for the glorious task by nature's hand;
Wisdom unclogg'd by years, with toil unbought,
A zeal by vigour kindled, rul'd by thought.
Such gifts she to the happy few imparts,
To judging heads and to determin'd hearts;
To heads unfir'd by youth's tumultuous rage,
To hearts unnumb'd by the chill ice of age;
And while they both preserve a sep'rate claim,
Their passions reason, and their reasons flame.
Proceed, brave youths! Let others court renown
In hostile fields, be yours the olive crown:
And trust to fame, those heroes brighter shone
Who sav'd a nation, than who nations won.
Now let assuming age restrain your flight,
Fearful to tempt the yet unpractis'd height;
Deceitful counsel lurks in hoary hairs,
And the last dregs of life are sordid cares.
Objects are clear proportion'd in degree,
To gen'ral use, or strong necessity.
Nor are two things so plainly understood,
As the worst evil, and the greatest good;
If rescu'd from the misty breath of schools,
Men will but feel without the help of rules.
So unbewilder'd in the crooked maze,
Where guilt low skulks, and reptile cunning strays,
A nation's interest, and a people's rights,
Distinctly shine in nature's simple lights,
And claim in him who fairly acts his part,
Before a Lonsdale's head, a Lonsdale's heart.
But chief when snatch'd by heaven's preserving hand,
From the fell contests of each hostile land,
A happy island to th' incircling main
Trusts for a sure support and honest gain.
The just are heaven's, earth is for heaven ordain'd,
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Form'd by its laws, and by its laws maintain'd.
These one true int'rest, one great system frame,
Political and moral are the same.
Guilt toils for gain at honour's vast expence,
Heaven throws the trifle in to innocence;
And fixes happiness in hell's despite,
The necessary consequence of right.
Proceed, ye Deists! blindfold rage employ,
And prove the sacred truths you would destroy.
Prove Christian faith the wisest scheme to bind,
In chains of cordial love, our jarring kind;
And thence conclude it human, if you can,
The perfect produce of imperfect man!
While prostrate we adore that power divine,
Whose simple rule connects each great design;
Bids social earth a type of heaven appear,
Where justice tastes those joys which wait her there.
But though self-int'rest follow virtue's train!
Yet selfish think not virtue's end is gain!
Older than time, ere int'rest had a name,
Justice existed, and is still the same;
Alike the creature's and creator's guide,
His rule to form, the law by which we're ty'd:
In reason's light, eternal word, exprest,
Stamp'd with his image in the creature's breast.
Thus speaks the sage, who skill'd in nature's laws,
Deep from effects high-trac'd th' all-ruling cause.
“Before creation was, th' Almighty Mind
“In time's abyss the future world design'd;
“Did the great system in its parts survey,
“And fit the springs, and regulate their play;
“In meet gradations plann'd th' harmonious round,
“These links by which depending parts are bound.
“All these he knew, ere yet the things he made,
“In types which well the mimic world display'd.
“The types are real, since from them he drew
“The real forms of whatsoe'er we view.
“Made to their 'semblance, heav'n and earth exist,
“But they unmade eternally subsist.
“For if created, we must sure suppose
“Some other types whence their resemblance flows;
“While these on others equally depend,
“Nor ever shall the long progression end.
“God ere it was, the future being saw,
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“Or blindfold made his world, and gave his law.
“But chance could never frame the vast design,
“Where countless parts in justest order join.
“The types eternal just proportions teach,
“Greater or less, more or less perfect each.
“These ever present power omniscient sees,
“On them he forms his ever-made decrees;
“Nor can he better love what merits least,
“Man than an angel, or than man a beast.
“Hence Reason, hence immortal Order springs,
“Knowledge and Love adapted to the things.
“And thence th' unerring rule of justice flows,
“To act what Order prompts, and Reason shows,
“When man in nature's purity remain'd
“By pain untroubled, and by sin unstain'd;
“Fair image of the God, and close conjoin'd,
“By innate union with the heav'nly mind;
“In the pure splendor of substantial light,
“The beam divine of Reason bless'd his sight;
“Seraphic order in its fount he view'd,
“Seeing he lov'd, and loving he pursu'd;
“Nor dar'd the body, passive slave, controul
“The sov'reign mandates of the ruling soul.
“But soon by sin the sacred union broke,
“Man bows to earth beneath the heavy yoke.
“The darkling soul scarce feels a glimm'ring ray,
“Shrouded in sense from her immortal day.
“Vengeance divine offended Order arms,
“And clothes in terrors her celestial charms.
“Now grosser objects heav'n-born souls possess,
“Passions enslave, and servile cares oppress.
“Fraud, rapine, murder, guilt's long horrid train,
“Distracted nature's anarchy maintain.
“No more pure Reason earthly minds can move,
“No more can Order's charms persuasive prove.
“But as the moon reflecting borrow'd day,
“Sheds on our shadow'd world a feeble ray:
“Some scatter'd beams of Reason law contains,
“While Order's rule must be enforc'd by pains.
“Hence death's black scroll, dire tortures hence are giv'n;
“Hence kings, the necessary curse of heav'n.
“And just the doom of an avenging God,
“Who spurn'd his sceptre, feel the tyrant's rod.
“Blind by our fears we meet the ills we fly,
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“In rule oppression, want in property.”
So spoke the sage, and if not learn'd in vain,
If spotless truth in sacred books remain;
Dearly the child hath paid the parent's pride,
And ill hath Law the heavenly rule supply'd.
Thus boasts some leech with unavailing art,
To mend the tainted lungs and wasting heart;
Bids the loose springs with wonted vigour play,
And sprightly juices warm in cold decay.
Or would imperious reason deign to own,
The world not made for sovereign man alone;
Some things there are for human use design'd,
And these in common dealt to human kind.
To mortal wants is given a power to use,
What to th' immortal part just heav'n might well refuse.
This faithful instinct in each breast implants,
All know their rights, for all must feel their wants.
But soon began the rage of wild desire,
To thirst for more than use could e'er require,
Ere stung by luxury's unfated call,
And ere ambition madly grasp'd the ball;
Vain restless man in busy search employ'd,
Saw somewhat still beyond the bliss enjoy'd,
Press'd eager on; the lowly and the great,
Alike their wish beyond their destin'd state;
Alike condemn'd, whatever Fortune grant,
To real poorness in phantastic want.
And now some sages high by others deem'd,
For virtue honour'd and for parts esteem'd;
Call'd forth to judge where dubious claims are try'd,
Convince with reason and with counsel guide;
Fix'd rules devise to sway th' assenting throng,
And marks distinct impress on right and wrong.
The simple precept subtle wiles evade,
And statutes as our crimes increased were made.
These were at first unwritten, plain and few,
'Till swell'd by time the law's vast volume grew;
And grown with these, to sway th' unwieldy trust,
Thousands we chose to keep the millions just,
Some plac'd o'er others, others plac'd o'er these,
Thus government grew up by slow degrees;
Higher the pile arose, and still more high,
When lo! the summit ends in monarchy.
There plac'd, a man in gorgeous pomp appears,
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And far o'er earth his tow'ring aspect rears;
While prostrate crowds his sacred smiles implore,
And what their crimes had form'd, their fears adore.
Low from beneath they lift their servile eyes,
And see the proud colossus touch the skies.
So at some mountain's foot have children gaz'd,
While close to heaven they view the summit rais'd,
Eager they mount, new regions to explore,
But heav'n is now as distant as before.
Thus views the crowd a throne, while those who rise
Claim not a nearer kindred to the skies;
Earth is their parent, thither kings should bend,
From thence they rise, and not from heaven descend.
Happy, had all the royal sons of earth
Thus sprung, nor guilt had claim'd the monstrous birth.
Where from the fire descending through the line,
Rapine and fraud confer a right divine.
Ye mortal gods, how vainly are ye proud?
If just your title, servants to the crowd;
If wide your sway, if large your treasur'd store,
These but increase your servitude the more;
A part is only yours, the rest is theirs,
And nothing all your own, except your cares.
Shall man, by nature free, by nature made
To share the feast her bounteous hand display'd,
Transfer these rights? as well he may dispense
The beam of reason, or the nerve of sense;
With all his strength the monarch's limbs invest,
Or pour his valour in the royal breast.
Take the starv'd peasant's taste, devouring lord!
Ere you deprive him of the genial board.
And if you would his liberty controul,
Assume the various actings of his soul!
So shall one man a people's powers enjoy,
Thus Indians deem of wretches they destroy.
Thus in old tales the fabled monster stands,
Proud of a thousand eyes, a thousand hands.
Thus dreams the sophist, who with subtle art,
Would prove the whole included in a part,
A people in their king; and from the throng,
Transfer to him their rights in nature's wrong;
Those sacred rights in nature's charter plain,
By wants that claim them, and by powers that gain.
Though sophists err, yet stand confess'd thy claim,
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And be the king and multitude the dame,
Whose deeds benevolent his title prove,
And royal selfishness, in public love;
Nor, draining wasted realms for sordid pelf,
O scepter'd suicided! destroy thy self.
Where fails this proof, in vain would we unite
The ruler's int'rest with the people's right.
Frantic ambition has her sep'rate claim,
The dropsy'd thirst of empire, wealth, or fame;
Pride's boundless hope, valour's enthusiast rant,
With the long nameless train of fancy'd wnat.
Urg'd on by these, all view the magic prize,
The prospect widening as they higher rise;
From him who seeks a limited command,
To him whose wish devours air, sea, and land.
Alike all foes to freedom's holy cause,
For freedom ties unbounded will with laws,
Alike all foes to every public gain,
For public blessings loose the bond-man's chain.
Ill-fated slaves of arbitrary sway!
Where trusted power seduces to betray;
Makes private failings rage a gen'ral pest,
And taints even virtue in the social breast;
Bids friendship plunder, charity undo
The blameless many, for the favour'd few.
'Till guilt high rear'd on crimes protecting crime,
Fills the heap'd measure of predestin'd time.
Far others, ye, O wealthy, wise, and brave!
Though subject, free; more freedom would enslave.
Bless'd with a rule by long experience try'd,
Unwarp'd by faction's rage, or kingly pride;
Bless'd with the means, when'er this rule shall bend,
Again to trace it to its glorious end;
And bless'd with proofs, the proofs are seal'd with blood,
What'er the form the end is public good.
But yet admit the sire his right fore-goes!
Can he his children's sep'rate claim dispose?
What'er the parent gave, what'er he give,
They who have right to life, have right to live.
And spite of man's consent, or man's decree,
A right to life, is right to liberty.
Though for convenience fram'd the laws should shine,
Pure emanation from the source divine;
Such as can pierce the gloom of pagan night,
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And untaught savages in woods enlight;
Such as on scaffolds can the guiltless save,
And torture on his throne the scepter'd slave;
Such as th' offending wretch reluctant owns,
And hails its beauty with his dying groans:
In such fair laws the will of heav'n impress'd,
Shines to all eyes, and rules the conscious breast.
Though tortures cease, though night's thick-mantling vail
From mortal ken the secret deed conceal;
Reason and conscience shall awake within,
And light the shade, and loud proclaim the sin.
“But should the universal voice combine,
“To cloath injustice in a robe divine?”
Let the same breath divest the day of light,
To blazon forth the dusky face of night.
Then shall the laws of sainted evil bind,
And human will subvert th' all-ruling mind:
That sacred fount whence lawful rule must spring,
And diff'rent from the robber marks the king.
Yet vainly would despotic will conclude,
That force may sway the erring multitude,
Justice, 'tis own'd, should ever guide the free,
But pow'r of wrong, in all, is liberty;
And for whatever purposes restrain'd,
A nation is enslaved that may be chain'd,
Heaven gives to all a liberty of choice,
A people's good requires a people's voice;
Man's surest guide, where diff'rent views agree,
From private hate, and private int'rest free.
Fatal their change from such who rashly fly,
To the hard grasp of guiding tyranny;
Soon shall they find, when will is arm'd with might,
Injustice wield the sword, though drawn for right.
Blind to these truths who fond of boundless sway,
Bids trembling slaves implicitly obey;
Though by a long descent from Adam down
Through scepter'd heirs, he boasts his ancient crown,
Great nature's rebel forfeits every claim,
And loads the tyrant with th' usurper's name;
While with each lawless act of proud command,
He stands proscrib'd by his own guilty hand.
Bow, Filmer, bow! to hell's tremendous throne,
And bid thy fellow-damn'd suppress each groan!
There sits a king whom pow'r divine hath giv'n,
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Nor earth boasts one so surely sent from heav'n.
And thou, blest martyr in fair freedom's cause,
Thou great asserter of thy country's laws;
Vainly oppression stopp'd thy potent breath;
Truth shone more powerful through the vail of death;
Example mov'd whom precept could not save,
And lifted axes wak'd each drowsy slave.
Yet magistrates must rule, they're useful things,
Our guilt the vengeance, and avenger brings.
Whate'er more perfect heav'n might first create,
A state well govern'd, now, is nature's state;
For law from reason springs, spontaneous fruit,
And reason sure is man's first attribute.
Let visionary schoolmen toil in vain,
Who seek in anarchy for nature's reign;
Wretched alike the slaves of lawless will,
Whether the savage, or the tyrant kill;
Unjust alike all rule, where public choice
Speaks not through laws a willing people's voice.
Nor freedom suffers when the guilty fall,
'Tis nature's doom, 'tis self-defence in all.
Such now is man deprav'd that fear must sway,
To tread the paths where duty points the way;
The wretch must suffer to forewarn the rest,
And some must fall to stop the spreading pest.
Alone the gen'ral welfare can demand
The bleeding victim from th' unwilling hand.
Hence public pains—what to the crime is due,
O Judge supreme! must be reserv'd for you.
To you alone, whose all-pervading eye
Deep in the breast can latent thought espy;
Try every action by the known intent,
And to each crime adapt its punishment;
While men, misled by erring lights, dispense
The doom of guilt to injur'd innocence;
Or though repentance cleanse the moral stain,
Inflict on crimes aton'd avenging pain.
Yet blameless they who act sincere their part,
Faultless he errs who cannot read the heart.
Not such fierce flames the mad enthusiast's zeal,
On errors harmless to the gen'ral weal,
Whether false notions wander far from truth,
Or age retain the trace impress'd in youth.
While int'rest prompts the holy murd'rer's hand,
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In sacred fires to light th' unhallow'd brand;
To draw destruction from heaven's saving page,
And bid sweet mercy breathe relentless rage.
Accurs'd all such! and he with joy elate,
Whose baleful breath embitters certain fate;
Who on th' imploring face malignant smiles,
And sentenc'd wretches wantonly reviles.
Better, far better in the savage den,
Let the robb'd lion judge o'er prostrate men:
Better let pow'r the lawless faulchion draw,
Than coward cruelty disgrace the law.
This well you know, O ---! whose righteous feat
Gives to the innocent a sure retreat;
Severely just, and piously humane,
The wretch you punish, while you share his pain.
Tears with the dreadful words of sentence flow,
Nor does the rigid judge the man forego.
So feels the breast humane, ye truly brave!
And such is thine, my friend, intent to save!
Whether thy bounty pining want relieve,
Or lenient pity sooth the hearts that grieve;
Whether thy pious hand due bounds prescribe
To little tyrants, o'er the lesser tribe;
Or whether nobler warmth expand thy soul,
And huge leviathan unaw'd controul.
Nor Britain only claims thy gen'rous plan,
Thy rule is justice, and thy care is man.
And may this truth thy fair example prove,
Justice shall fan the flame of social love.

AN EPISTLE TO A LADY.

By THE SAME.
Clarinda, dearly lov'd, attend
The counsels of a faithful friend;
Who with the warmest wishes fraught,
Feels all, at least, that friendship ought.
But since by ruling heav'n's design,
Another's fate shall influence thine;
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O! may these lines for him prepare
A bliss, which I would die to share!
Man may for wealth or glory roam,
But woman must be blest at home;
To this should all her studies tend,
This her great object and her end.
Distaste unmingled pleasures bring,
And use can blunt affliction's sting;
Hence perfect bliss no mortals know,
And few are plung'd in utter woe;
While nature arm'd against despair,
Gives pow'r to mend, or strength to bear;
And half the thought content may gain,
Which spleen employs to purchase pain.
Trace not the fair domestic plan,
From what you would, but what you can!
Nor, peevish, spurn the scanty store,
Because you think you merit more!
Bliss ever differs in degree,
Thy share alone is meant for thee;
And thou should'st think, however small,
That share enough, for 'tis thy all:
Vain scorn will aggravate distress,
And only make that little less.
Admit whatever trifles come,
Units compose the largest sum:
O! tell them o'er, and say how vain
Are those which form ambition's train:
Which dwell the monarch's gorgeous state,
And bribe to ill the guilty Great!
But thou more blest, more wise than these,
Shalt build up happiness on ease.
Hail sweet Content! where joy serene
Gilds the mild soul's unruffled scene;
And with blith fancy's pencil wrought,
Spreads the white web of flowing thought;
Shines lovely in the cheerful face,
And cloaths each charm with native grace;
Effusion pure of bliss sincere,
A vestment for a god to wear.
Far other ornaments compose
The garb that shrouds dissembled woes,
Piec'd out with motley dies and sorts,
Freaks, whimsies, festivals and sports;
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The troubled mind's fantastic dress,
Which madness titles happiness.
While the gay wretch to revels bears
The pale remains of sighs and tears:
And seeks in crowds, like her undone,
What only can be found in one.
But, chief, my gentle friend! remove
Far from thy couch seducing love!
O! shun the false magician's art,
Nor trust thy yet unguarded heart!
Charm'd by his spells fair honour flies,
And thousand treach'rous phantoms rise,
Where guilt in beauty's ray beguiles,
And ruin lurks in friendship's smiles.
Lo! where th' enchanted captive dreams
Of warbling groves, and purling streams;
Of painted meads, of flowers that shed
Their odours round her fragrant bed.
Quick shifts the scene, the charm is lost,
She wakes upon a desert coast!
No friendly hand to lend its aid,
No guardian bow'r to spread its shade;
Expos'd to every chilling blast,
She treads th' inhospitable waste;
And down the drear decline of life,
Sinks a forlorn, dishonour'd wife.
Neglect not thou the voice of Fame,
But clear from crime, be free from blame!
Though all were innocence within,
'Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin.
Virtue rejects the foul disguise:
None merit praise who praise despise.
Slight not, in supercilious strain,
Long practis'd modes, as low or vain!
The world will vindicate their cause,
And claim blind faith in custom's laws.
Safer with multitudes to stray,
Than tread alone a fairer way;
To mingle with the erring throng,
Than boldly speak ten millions wrong.
Beware of the relentless train,
Who forms adore, whom forms maintain!
Lest prudes demure, or coxcombs loud,
Accuse thee to the partial crowd;
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Foes who the laws of honour slight,
A judge who measures guilt by spite.
Behold the sage Aurelia stand,
Disgrace and fame at her command!
As if heaven's delegate design'd,
Sole arbiter of all her kind.
Whether she try some favour'd piece,
By rules devis'd in ancient Greece;
Or whether modern in her flight,
She tells what Paris thinks polite.
For much her talents to advance,
She study'd Greece, and travell'd France.
There learn'd the happy art to please,
With all the charms of labour'd ease;
Through looks and nods with meaning fraught,
To teach what she was never taught.
By her each latent spring is seen,
The workings soul of secret spleen;
The guilt that sculks in fair pretence,
Or folly veil'd in specious sense.
And much her righteous spirit grieves,
When worthlessness the world deceives;
Whether the erring crowd commends
Some patriot sway'd by private ends;
Or husband trust a faithless wife,
Secure in ignorance from strife.
Averse she brings their deeds to view,
But justice claims the rig'rous due;
Humanely anxious to produce
At least some possible excuse.
O ne'er may virtue's dire disgrace
Prepare a triumph for the base!
Mere forms the fool implicit sway,
Which witlings with contempt survey,
Blind folly no defect can see,
Half wisdom views but one degree;
The wife remoter uses reach,
Which judgment and experience teach.
Whoever would be pleas'd and please,
Must do what others do with ease.
Great precept undefin'd by rule,
And only learn'd in custom's school;
To no peculiar form confin'd,
It spreads through all the human kind;
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Beauty and wit and worth supplies,
Yet graceful in the good and wise.
Rich with this gift and none beside,
In fashion's stream how many glide?
Secure from every mental woe,
From treach'rous friend or open foe;
From social sympathy that shares
The public loss or private cares;
Whether the barb'rous foe invade,
Or merit pine in fortune's shade.
Hence gentle Anna ever gay,
The same to-morrow as to-day.
Save where perchance, when others weep,
Her cheek the decent sorrow steep;
Save when perhaps a melting tale,
O'er every tender breast prevail.
The good, the bad, the great, the small,
She likes, she loves, she honours all.
And yet if sland'rous malice blame,
Patient she yields a sister's fame.
Alike if satire or if praise,
She says whate'er the circle says;
Implicit does whate'er we do,
Without one point or wish in view,
Sure test of others, faithful glass
Through which the various phantoms pass,
Wide blank, unfeeling when alone,
No care, no joy, no thought her own.
Not thus succeeds the peerless dame,
Who looks, and talks, and acts for fame;
Intent, so wide her cares extend,
To make the universe her friend.
Now with the gay in frolic shines,
Now reasons deep with deep divines.
With courtiers now extols the great,
With patriots sighs o'er Britain's fate.
Now breathes with zealots holy fires,
Now melts in less refin'd desires.
Doom'd to exceed in each degree,
Too wise, too weak, too proud, too free,
Too various for one single word,
The high sublime of deep absurd.
While every talent nature grants,
Just serves to shew how much she wants.
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Although in—combine
The virtues of our sex and thine:
Her hand restrains the widow's tears,
Her sense informs, and sooths and cheers;
Yet like an angel in disguise,
She shines but to some favour'd eyes;
Nor is the distant herd allow'd
To view the radiance through the cloud.
But thine is every winning art,
Thine is the friendly honest heart:
And should the gen'rous spirit flow,
Beyond where prudence fears to go;
Such sallies are of nobler kind,
Than virtues of a narrow mind.

AN ODE TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD LONSDALE.

By THE SAME.

I

Lonsdale! thou ever-honour'd name,
For such is sacred virtue's claim,
Say, why! my noble friend!
While nature sheds her balmy powers
O'er hill and dale, in leaves and flowers,
Say, why my joys suspend!

II

Here spreads the lawn high-crown'd with wood,
Here slopes the vale, there winds the flood
In many a crystal maze.
The fishes sport, in silver pride
Slow moves the swan, on either side
The herds promiscuous graze.
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III

Or if the stiller shade you love,
Here solemn nods th' imbow'ring grove
O'er innocence and ease;
Whether with deep reflection fraught,
Or in the sprightly stream of thought,
The lighter trifles please.

IV

And should the shaft of treacherous spleen
Glance venom'd through this peaceful scene,
Unheeded may it fly.
Provok'd, nor tempted to repay,
Though truth severer prompt the lay,
A mean prosaic lie.

V

Here with the pheasant and the hare,
Unfearful of the human snare,
Have statesmen pass'd a day.
While far from yon forbidden gate,
Pale care and lank remorse await
Their slow-returning prey.

VI

O! blind to all the joys of life,
Who seek them in the storm of strife,
Destroying, or destroy'd.
Less wretched they, and yet unbless'd,
Who batten in lethargic rest,
On blessings unenjoy'd.

VII

But come, my friend, the fun invites,
For thee the town hath no delights,
Distasted and aggriev'd;
While fools believe, while villains cheat,
Too honest to approve deceit,
Too wise to be deceiv'd.
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VIII

Or dost thou fear lest dire disease
Again thy tortur'd frame may seize;
And hast thou therefore stay'd?
O! rather haste, where thou shalt find
A ready hand, a gentle mind,
To comfort and to aid.

IX

And while by sore afflictions try'd,
You bear without the Stoic's pride,
What Stoic never bore;
O! may I learn like thee to bear,
And what shall be my destin'd share,
To suffer, not explore.
 

Alluding to a certain scandalous libel.

AN ODE.

[Too anxious for the public weal]

By THE SAME.

I

Too anxious for the public weal,
A while suspend the toilsome strife!
O think if Britain claims thy zeal,
Thy friends and Britain claim thy life!

II

Thy gen'rous, free, and active soul,
Inspir'd by glory's sacred flame,
Springs ardent to the distant goal,
And strains the weaker mortal frame.

III

Happy whom reason deigns to guide,
Secure within the golden mean,
Who shuns the Stoic's senseless pride,
Nor wallows with the herd obscene.
181

IV

He nor with brow severely bent,
Chides pleasure's smiling train away;
Nor careless of life's great intent,
With folly wastes each heedless day.

V

But from the mountain's lofty height,
Now nature's mighty frame surveys:
And now descending with delight,
Along the humble valley strays.

VI

So have I seen thee gain applause,
Though faction rag'd, from Britain's peers;
Then glorious in thy country's cause,
Go whisper love in Chloe's ears.

AN ODE.

[On Stow, the Muse's happy theme]

By THE SAME.

I

On Stow, the Muse's happy theme,
Let fancy's eye enamour'd gaze;
Where through one nobly simple scheme,
Ten thousand varying beauties please.
There patriot-virtue rears her shrine,
Nor love! art thou depriv'd of thine.

II

Mark where from Pope's exhaustless vein,
Pure flows the stream of copious thought,
While nature pours the genial strain,
With fairest springs of learning fraught;
The treasures of each clime and age,
Grace and enrich his sacred page.
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III

So while through Britain's fields her Thames
Prolific rolls his silver tide;
The tribute of a thousand streams
Swells the majestic river's pride;
And where his gen'rous current strays,
The wealth of either world conveys.

IV

Far other is that wretch's song,
Whose scanty rill devoid of force,
With idle tinklings creeps along,
A narrow, crooked, dubious course:
Or foul with congregated floods,
Spreads a wide waste o'er plains and woods.

V

In action thus the mind express'd
High soars in Pope the true sublime:
A Stow unfolds a Cobham's breast,
A Bavius crawls in doggrel rhyme.
Through all their various works we trace
The greatly virtuous, and the base.

AN ODE.

[Gentle, idle, trifling boy]

By THE SAME.
Gentle, idle, trifling boy,
Sing of pleasures, sing of joy!
Well you paint the crystal spring,
Well the flow'ry meadow sing,
But beware with bolder flight,
Tempt not heaven's unequal height,
But beware! with impious strain,
Mock not freedom's hallow'd train!
Sacred, here, O! ever be
Heaven, and heaven-born liberty!
183

Let the slaves of lawless sway,
Let the stupid flock obey!
Pent within a narrow fold,
Ty'd, and stript, and slain, and sold.
Happier stars the brave befriend,
Britons know a nobler end.
Theirs it is to temper laws,
Theirs to watch in freedom's cause,
Theirs one common good to share,
Theirs to feel one common care;
In the glorious task combin'd,
From the monarch to the hind.
Yet O! cease not, gentle boy!
Sing of pleasures, sing of joy!
Like thy brothers of the wing,
Idly hop, and chirp, and sing.
Heaven can nothing vain produce,
Ev'ry creature has its use.
Thine it is to sooth our toil,
Thine to make e'en wisdom smile.
Much they err who such despise,
Trifles please the truly wise.

VERSES TO CAMILLA.

By THE SAME.
Weary'd with indolent repose,
A life unmix'd with joys or woes;
Where all the lazy moments crept,
And every passion sluggish slept;
I wish'd for love's inspiring pains,
To rouze the loiterer in my veins.
Th' officious power my call attends,
He who uncall'd his succour lends;
And with a smile of wanton spite,
He gave Camilla to my sight.
Her eyes their willing captive seize,
Her look, her air, her manner please;
New beauties please, unseen before,
Or seen, in her they please me more;
184

And soon, too soon, alas! I find
The virtues of a nobler kind.
Now cheerful springs the morning ray,
Now cheerful sinks the closing day;
For every morn with her I walk'd,
And every eve with her I talk'd;
With her I lik'd the vernal bloom,
With her I lik'd the crowded room;
From her at night I went with pain,
And long'd for morn to meet again.
How quick the smiling moments pass,
Through varying fancy's mimic glass!
While the gay scene is painted o'er,
Where all was one wide blank before;
And sweetly sooth'd th' inchanting dream,
'Till love inspir'd a bolder scheme.
Camilla, stung with grief and shame,
Now marks, and shuns the guilty flame;
Fierce anger lighten'd in her face,
Then cold reserve assum'd its place:
And soon, the wretch's hardest fate,
Contempt succeeds declining hate.
No more my presence now she flies,
She sees me with unheeding eyes;
Sees me with various passions burn,
Enrag'd depart, submiss return;
Return with flattering hopes to find
Soft pity move her gentle mind.
But ah! her looks were still the same,
Unmark'd I went, unmark'd I came;
Unmark'd were all my hopes and fears,
While Strephon whispers in her ears.
O Jealousy! distracting guest!
Fly to some happy lover's breast;
Fitly with joy thou minglest care,
But why inhabit with despair?
185

TO CORINNA.

By EARL NUGENT.
While I those hard commands obey,
Which tear me from thee far away;
Never did yet love-tortur'd youth,
So dearly prove his doubted truth;
For never woman charm'd like thee,
And never man yet lov'd like me.
All creatures whom fond flames inspire,
Pursue the object they desire;
But I, prepost'rous doom! must prove
By distant flight the strongest love;
And ev'ry way distress'd by fate,
Must lose thy sight, or meet thy hate.

EPIGRAMS.

By THE SAME.

EPIGRAM I.

I lov'd thee beautiful and kind,
And plighted an eternal vow;
So alter'd are thy face and mind,
'Twere perjury to love thee now.

EPIGRAM II.

Since first you knew my am'rous smart,
Each day augments your proud disdain;
'Twas then enough to break my heart,
And now, thank heav'n! to break my chain.
Cease, thou scorner, cease to shun me!
Now let love and hatred cease!
Half that rigour had undone me,
All that rigour gives me peace.

EPIGRAM III.

My heart still hovering round about you,
I thought I could not live without you;
Now we have liv'd three months asunder,
How I liv'd with you is the wonder.
186

EPIGRAM IV. Upon the Bust of English Worthies, at Stow.

Among these chiefs of British race,
Who live in breathing stone,
Why has not Cobham's bust a place?
The structure was his own.

EPIGRAM V.

Tho' cheerful, discreet, and with freedom well bred,
She never repented an idle word said:
Securely she smiles on the forward and bold,
They feel what they owe her, and feel it untold.

EPIGRAM VI.

Lye on! while my revenge shall be,
To speak the very truth of thee.

EPIGRAM VII.

I swore I lov'd, and you believ'd,
Yet, trust me, we were both deceiv'd;
Though all I swore was true.
I lov'd one gen'rous, good, and kind,
A form created in my mind;
And thought that form was you.

EPIGRAM VIII. On Mrs. Penelope.

The gentle Pen, with look demure,
Awhile was thought a virgin pure:
But Pen, as ancient poets say,
Undid by night the work of day.

EPIGRAM IX. On one who first abused, and then made love to a lady.

Foul—with graceless verse,
The noble—dar'd asperse.
But when he saw her well bespatter'd,
Her reputation stain'd and tatter'd;
187

He gaz'd and lov'd the hideous elf,
She look'd so very like himself.
True sung the bard well known to fame,
Self-love and social are the same.

EPIGRAM X.

While Lucy, chaste as mountain snows,
Gives every idle fop a hearing;
In Mary's breast a passion glows,
Which stronger is from not appearing.
Say, who has chose the better part!
Mary, to whom no joy is missing;
Or she, who dupe to her own heart,
Pays the full price of Mary's kissing.

EPIGRAM XI.

She who in secret yields her heart,
Again may claim it from her lover;
But she who plays the trifler's part,
Can ne'er her squander'd fame recover.
Then grant the boon for which I pray!
'Tis better lend than throw away.

EPIGRAM XII.

We thought you without titles great,
And wealthy with a small estate;
While by your humble self alone,
You seem'd unrated and unknown.
But now on fortune's swelling tide
High-borne, in all the pomp of pride;
Of grandeur vain, and fond of pelf,
'Tis plain, my lord, you knew yourself.

EPIGRAM XIII.

Lovely shines thy wedded fair,
Gentle as the yielding air;
Cheering as the solar beam,
Soothing as the fountain-stream.
Why then, jealous husband, rail?
All may breathe the ambient gale,
188

Bask in heaven's diffusive ray,
Drink the streams that pass away.
All may share unless'ning joy,
Why then jealous, peevish boy?
Water, air, and light confine,
Ere thou think'st her only thine.

EPIGRAM XIV.

Tom thought a wild profusion great:
And therefore spent his whole estate:
Will thinks the wealthy are ador'd,
And gleans what misers blush to hoard.
Their passion, merit, fate the same,
They thirst and starve alike for fame.

EPIGRAM XV. To Clarissa.

Why like a tyrant wilt thou reign,
When thou may'st rule the willing mind?
Can the poor pride of giving pain
Repay the joys that wait the kind?
I curse my fond enduring heart,
Which scorn'd presumes not to be free,
Condemn'd to feel a double smart,
To hate myself, and burn for thee.

EPIGRAM XVI.

Ever busy'd, ne'er employ'd,
Ever loving, ne'er enjoy'd,
Ever doom'd to seek and miss,
And pay unbless'd the price of bliss.

EPIGRAM XVII.

Vainly hath heaven denounc'd the woman's woes,
Thou know'st no tender care, no bitter throes,
Unfelt your offspring comes, unfelt it goes.
189

AN ELEGY.

Wrapt in a sable Cloud the Morn appears,
And ev'ry Object Sorrow's Livery wears;
Slow move the leaden Hours, my lab'ring Breast
Struggles beneath a weight of Grief opprest;
The swelling Sighs burst forth, Tears gushing flow,
While all within is Anarchy of Woe.
The sprightly Lay, and social Converse wound
My tortur'd Ear, with an ungrateful Sound;
Nor chears the Dance my unregarding Eye,
Flown is its Grace, and wonted Harmony;
Music essays inchanting Notes in vain,
While Sorrows mingle with the soothing Strain,
Sink deeper to the Heart, and melting move
The kindred Powers of Pity and of Love.
For she is now no more to whom belong,
The Dance, the Lay, the Converse and the Song;
Where ev'ry Love with every Grace was join'd,
And sovereign Reason with free Mirth combin'd.
But lo! Death folds her in his icy Arms,
And clothes in awful Horrors all her Charms;
O'er the dim Eye eternal Slumbers sheds,
The clay-cold Cheek with ghastly Pale o'erspreads,
Steals from the livid Lip its fragrant Bloom,
Too early sunk within a dreary Tomb!
Ah! fruitless Love! and will you then pursue
An Object lost for ever to my View?
Lost thou shalt never be, Immortal Fair!
My Mind shall still the Dear Idea bear,
There shalt thou present be, there ever live,
And there the Fullness of my Heart receive.
In melancholy Raptures will I trace
Thy ev'ry Charm, and each transporting Grace;
My faithful Memory shall past Days renew,
Those happy Moments that I pass'd with you;
So shall each little Circumstance be there,
And each Reflection shall draw forth a Tear.
Ah! now I may, without offence, proclaim,
A faithful, generous, and most secret Flame,
Which burn'd like those Sepulchral Lamps, that light
The silent Mansions of eternal Night.
190

AN INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMB

RAISED TO THE MEMORY OF THE AUTHOR'S FATHER, AND OF OTHERS HIS ANCESTORS.

By THE SAME.
Unmark'd by trophies of the great and vain,
Here sleeps in silent tombs a gentle train.
No folly wasted their paternal store,
No guilt, no sordid av'rice made it more;
With honest fame, and sober plenty crown'd,
They liv'd, and spread their cheering influence round.
May he whose hand this pious tribute pays,
Receive a like return of filial praise!

TO THE MEMORY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLOTTE VISCOUNTESS TOWNSHEND

[_]

BARONESS FERRARS IN HER OWN RIGHT, WHO DIED AT LEIXLIP, IN IRELAND, ON THE 5TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1770.

By EARL NUGENT.
With down-cast look, and pitying eye,
Unarm'd the King of Terrors stood;
He laid his sting and horrors by,
Averse to strike the fair and good:
When thus an angel urg'd the blow—
“No more thy lifted hand suspend!
“To conscious guilt a dreaded foe,
“To innocence a welcome friend.
“Bright hosts of cherubs round her stand,
“To her and me confess'd alone;
“Each waving his celestial hand,
“And pointing to th' eternal throne.”
191

The angel spoke—nor husband dear,
Nor children lov'd (a mournful train)
Could from her eye attract one tear,
Nor bend one thought to earth again.
The soul, impatient of delay,
No more could mortal fetters bind,
But springing to the realms of day,
Leaves ev'ry human care behind.
Yet, oh! an infant daughter's claim
Demands from Heaven thy guardian care;
Protect that lovely, helpless frame!
And guard that breast you form'd so fair.
A parent's loss, unknown, unwept,
Thoughtless the fatal hour she past;
Or only thought her mother slept,
Nor knew how long that sleep must last.
When time th' unfolding mind displays,
May she, by thy example led,
Fly from that motley giddy maze,
Which youth, and guilt, and folly tread!
These never knew the guiding hand
Which leads to virtue's arduous way:
Mothers now join the vagrant band,
And teach their children how to stray.
Her shall the pious task engage,
(Such one was thine, with lenient aid)
A father's sorrows to assuage,
His love with equal love repaid.
So shall she read with ardent eye,
This lesson thy last moments give—
“They who, like thee, would fearless die,
“Spotless, like thee, must learn to live.”
 

Elizabeth, born in August 1766.

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